The Wish
by XWaltzforVenusX
Summary: Every action has a reaction, every wish has a consequence... what if you were given three? AU s1. RT eventually.
1. Chapter 1

_I know, I know - another new story. I should be working on Fables, but I'm not... obviously._

_Alright… um… I have no explanation for this. Blame ORy. Completely. She came up with the prompt and bugged me until I wrote it. Other than that… it's so random and weird. Really, you guys should just expect it of me by now._

_It's AU… and I'm not using that term lightly. It's AU and strange and I'm not even attempting reality and I'm sorry. _

_But it must be done._

_By the way, the title of the story is the title of a Buffy episode. So if you've seen that episode… then maybe you can guess at the vague idea of this story._

_Music: in the garden, Snake was charming and Eve said 'let's give it a try'_

* * *

The hot sun beat down and he felt sweat prickle the back of his neck as he walked. Up ahead he spotted a tent over one of the lawns and he made his way over, craving the shade.

He joined others under it and found himself at a garage sale – one of his neighbors that he should know, but didn't because he didn't care. It was an older couple, so there was no reason to know them. They didn't have kids his age and they weren't someone who he had to watch out for, so he didn't pay attention. He only paid attention to people who mattered – who could affect his life. There were enough of those to keep track of, he didn't need random people in his world view.

They were nice though – the couple. Renting this big canopy so people could shop out of the sun and he pretended to look around so he could stay there for a while.

"Looking for anything in particular?" the old man asked from where he sat behind the main table. He shrugged and hoped the guy would get the hint and leave him alone.

"Maybe something for a special girl?" his wife said with a sly smile and he couldn't help but smile back.

Most people in Chino weren't nice.

"I guess," he shrugged again, hoping if he just agreed, they'd stop bugging him. He didn't have the money to waste on something stupid. He barely had any money at all.

"I have lots of old jewelry," the woman stood up from her chair and it took such an effort that he let her show him it. She was right, it was old jewelry. Old, tacky jewelry.

"I'm not sure if she wears jewelry," he told the woman, hoping he wouldn't hurt her feelings. The woman just nodded and shook her head, like she expected it.

"Well, tell us if you like anything, son," the man called again as the woman sat down. He nodded and walked a little away from them. No one had called him 'son' since his dad went to prison.

He skimmed his eyes over the stuff, mostly old and useless. He stopped for a second on some old comics, but moved on quickly. He'd get killed if anyone knew he liked comics. Whenever Trey hung out with his friends in front of the convenience store and he had to tag along, he'd go inside and read the latest Spiderman. There was just something about being brought up with no friends and turning into a hero…

There was nothing he wanted and he contemplated leaving, but the old couple was nice and the shade was nicer, so he felt compelled to stay and buy _something_.

He could get something for Theresa. She was mad at him for… something, he wasn't sure what. But she'd broken up with him yet again and therefore, he wasn't getting laid. Which was a problem, because he was fifteen and all he thought about was getting laid.

He glanced over the merchandise again and stopped on a bottle. It was a deep red, made of glass and accented with gold paint, with a rounded bottom and a long skinny neck and a glass stopper, and he remembered Theresa saying she wanted a new vase because she broke her old one. It wasn't exactly a vase, but she could take out the stopper and put flowers in it.

So he picked it up and asked how much it was, reaching into his pocket for the crumpled up bills that he'd wanted to use for cigarettes.

Five bucks for a stupid vase - bottle, whatever. All he knew was it better get him laid. And if it didn't – if Theresa turned him down, which she was likely to do – he could give it to his mom. That might even placate her for a while. She was usually a lot nicer when she got presents.

A gift might give him a week without a beer bottle being thrown at his head or angry shouting or her current boyfriend pounding the shit out of him. It was always worse when the hitting started up again after a break, but a whole _week_ might be worth the extra pain and remembering his mom doesn't love him enough to stop it.

* * *

He put the bottle in his room when he got home and tried calling Theresa. She – predictably – didn't pick up and he decided to forget her until tomorrow. Tonight there was a party at Jordan's house and Trey had decided he was allowed to go.

They went out at eleven, after mom and… Chuck? had gone to bed.

The party was fun and he and Trey beat everyone at beer pong. The Atwoods always won drinking games and he was surprised people still challenged them. Especially when they teamed up together.

Katie Frank was eyeing him up all night and he danced with her a bit. Or rather, he let her grind on him to the vague beat of the music while he drank and Trey winked at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

Tonight was fun. He liked when Trey was in his brotherly phase. It happened less and less as they got older – when they were younger Trey used to protect him all the time, but lately it seemed he was more of a burden than a little brother. But there were still moments when the old Trey appeared, when they laughed and had fun. So it was nice, being here with him tonight. Plus, the girl rubbing her ass into him wasn't bad either.

Too bad he couldn't fuck her. Trey called it being whipped, but he called it morals. He wasn't quite sure where he'd gotten them, since mom and dad and Trey didn't have them. Well, Trey sometimes, but not a lot. He really liked Theresa, and he wasn't going to fuck it up by screwing some other girl, no matter how short her skirt was.

That was what stuck in his head when he pushed the girl away around two in the morning and left the party. Trey didn't come with, he was probably hooking up with Sam. So he walked home by himself and let himself into the house and stumbled a little to his room.

He probably shouldn't have drunk so much. Theresa hated when he got drunk and she'd kill him for going over there with a hangover tomorrow. He really hoped she liked the gift.

He sat on his bed and felt the alcohol try to pull him into sleep, but he picked up the bottle to examine it. The thing was slightly dirty – a layer of grime that was noticeable upon close inspection. So he picked his t-shirt up off the floor and scrubbed hard at the bottle until all the grime was gone.

The effort wore him out and when he was done, he put the bottle down on his nightstand and passed out.

* * *

He wasn't sure if it was the bright sun from the open window or the sound of his mom bitching at Trey that woke him up, but he was going to bet on the latter. He only had a mild headache, but he still opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the light.

Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, then his head, before turning and putting his feet on the floor.

It was then that he noticed the girl in his room.

"What the fuck?" he hissed, putting a hand over his heart to try and calm it.

"Good morning!" she greeted brightly, grinning at him like she knew him. He'd never seen her before in his life. Did they go to school together? And if so…

"What the fuck are you wearing?" He'd meant to ask who she was and what she was doing here, but that came out first. He couldn't help it. Her outfit was absolutely ridiculous – a red shirt that bared her stomach and what looked like oversized satin pants, and little red… well, he could only define them as slippers. Her hair was pulled up tightly and red and gold jewelry hung from anywhere it could – her ears, neck, wrists, fingers, ankles, belly button… She looked like fucking Barbara Eden from that black and white show about the genie. He looked back up at her face and she seemed confused by his question, like there was nothing unusual about what she was wearing. So he tried again. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a Jinn," she answered without hesitation, voice still perky and bright as she stood in front of him.

"A what?"

"A Jinn. Also called jinni, jinniyah, marid…" She trailed off and looked at him expectantly. He still wasn't any clearer on who the hell she was, and it must have shown on his face, because she started to frown. "A Jinn," she repeated. "Plural: Jann…" He raised his eyebrows and she sighed heavily. "I'm a fricken genie, ok?"

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" he asked. After the words left his mouth, it occurred to him he should've told her to get the hell out because he was in no mood for insane asylum escapees.

"Because," she huffed, seemingly unaware that she was – in fact – crazy. "_Genie_ is such a… degrading term. But that's all you Americans seem to know. You have no appreciation for myth and legend beyond your own Disney-fied versions of them. It's inconsiderate to other cultures and highly insulting to those myths and legends that must be tainted by Anglicized versions of our correct names, and I don't think it's fair…"

"Stop." He held up his hand and – surprisingly enough – she stopped. "Just… stop talking. Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you in my room?" He stood up and shook his head. "You know what, I don't care. Get the fuck out."

"I can't," she pouted. "I belong to you."

If he didn't have such a massive headache, he would've appreciated that more. Actually, if he didn't have such a massive headache, he would've appreciated _her_ more. Even if she was crazy, she was a hot mess, and if she thought she was a genie, she'd probably be up for being ordered around and calling him 'master'.

But his head hurt and crazy people were put away for a reason. Usually because they ended up freaking out and accidentally killing someone, and he did _not_ need to be that person. He just needed to get this girl – hot as she was – out of his room.

"You don't belong to me," he kept his voice calm, so as not to upset his head any more. "You belong in some place with nice, padded rooms and lots of happy pills, ok? I don't know how you got in, but please leave. I'm going to get coffee now."

He said the last part slowly, like she couldn't understand English, before heading out his door. He hoped she'd follow and go out the front door while he went to the kitchen. Luckily mom and Trey had both left in the time he'd been talking to her, so he wouldn't have _that_ conversation.

"You don't look like a cream and sugar type of guy."

"Holy fucking shit!" he hissed, backing into the counter and nearly falling down. "How the fuck…" He looked over his shoulder at his bedroom, then back to her. How did she get to the kitchen before him? And not just to the kitchen, but standing there with a pot of coffee and a mug in her hands?

"I told you, master," she said cheerily. "I'm a Jinn."

"Trey must've slipped me something last night," he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face. That was the only explanation. Trey liked fucking with him, and his nice mode had been unexpected. Maybe he'd just been invited along to the party so Trey could dump… like, LSD into his drink. That would explain the hot girl in a genie outfit that appeared out of nowhere and jumped from his room to the kitchen.

"You're stubborn," the hallucination told him, frowning a little. "Most masters are all over the idea, making wishes all willy nilly the second I tell them what I am."

"I don't have the energy for this," he told... _it_, putting his hand to the back of his neck. "Can't you just go away?"

She sighed and put down the pot of coffee and mug. Then she came over to him, pressed her fingertips to his temples rubbed slowly. The pounding in his head receded and he felt the tension drain out of him.

"Now do you believe me?" she asked, taking her hands away.

He wanted to argue, but he really didn't feel like it. His headache might be gone, but he was still tired and he wanted his coffee. So he decided to placate the LSD hallucination and nodded. "Yeah, I believe you."

"Good!" She stood back and clapped her hands together in celebration before picking up the mug and handing it to him. He leaned against the counter and drank as she took a deep breath. "Now, before we begin, there are a few rules you have to know."

"Alright," he waved his hand at her to go on.

"First, I can't kill anyone. I can maim, disfigure, turn into a vegetable, but I can't kill. Second, I can't make anyone fall in love. Love is an act of human free will and I can't control it. I can do lust, but not love, and yes, there is a difference. Most men don't seem to realize that."

"Seems simple enough," he shrugged, more amused than anything now that he had coffee in his system. Hell, if he had to hallucinate, why not a half-dressed genie? Especially if she called him master some more.

"Oh, and one last thing. Tiny, not really worth mentioning…"

"Alright."

"You can free me."

"How?"

She seemed slightly taken aback by his question and he watched guarded hope enter her face. "All you have to say is 'I wish you free'. And… bam! I'm free. So, you know… if you're ever in a generous mood…"

"I'll keep it in mind," he laughed quietly.

This was all just ridiculous. But whatever, he'd play along.

"Ok, I have my first wish," he took a deep breath and put down his mug. She brightened up considerably and clasped her hands in front of her.

"You're going to free me?" She smiled hopefully, eyes wide.

"No." He waved his hand dismissively at her and the happiness faded into an angry pout. "I wish I was out of Chino."

A strange look went over her face, but she nodded and snapped her fingers.

Nothing happened.

It was weird, because he was actually disappointed, even though he _knew_ he was just hallucinating.

He just really wanted out of Chino.

* * *

He sat in the cold, steel chair and waited for his lawyer. He kept his face impassive and his fidgeting to a minimum.

He didn't want to piss off the guard.

But the blue jumpsuit was itchy and the cuffs around his wrists were chaffing him and he wanted to see Trey, but no one would tell him where he was or how he was or what was happening. He was fifteen and they wouldn't do anything with him until he had a lawyer. They wouldn't even give him medicine or band-aids for the cuts he'd sustained in the crash.

He couldn't believe he fucking stole a car.

Mom was gonna kill him.

* * *

Dante Miller shook his head and slammed his fist down on the hood of his car, glaring at the flat tire.

Goddamn pre-owned cars. The dealership assured him it was in perfect working order, but here he was, on the side of the road when he had a case to get to. Not that the kid would miss him or anything. Dante knew he wasn't a great lawyer – it's why he worked as a public defender instead of in some fancy, private firm.

He wasn't going to make it to the jail today and he didn't really want the case anyway. He had enough work as it was. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone and called the only lawyer he knew would take a case on such short notice.

"Hey, Sandy," he greeted in relief when the man answered. "Yeah, my car got a flat… piece of shit that it is… anyway, I have a kid down in jail that needs a lawyer and I'm not getting there… no, the paperwork's all there, I got nothing, just the call… yeah, yeah… name's Ryan Atwood… all I know's he's a minor and he and his brother stole a car… yeah… thanks a bunch, Sandy."

He sighed again and snapped his phone shut. The kid was Sandy's problem now.

He opened his phone again and called a towing service.

_

* * *

_

All of my 'research' for this chapter comes from Wikipedia. Wikipedia is my best friend.

Umm... review the weirdness?


	2. Chapter 2

_Hmm… enjoying the weirdness yet? Cause there's more of it coming. Oh, and in case no one got it from last chapter: the LSD hallucinations were real._

_Oh yes, there's a genie._

_Can you tell this is my 'Fun With Fairy Tales' month? I've moved on from the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault to One Thousand and One Nights. Not exactly a fairy tale, but close enough._

_Music: come join in the last hurrah, with open sores and open jaws_

* * *

He set his bag down on the wicker chair and stared around the room. It wasn't even a _room._ It had a bed, a kitchenette and its own bathroom.

Their _pool house_ was nicer than his house in Chino.

"You ok, kid?" Sandy Cohen's voice sounded from behind him and he turned to see his lawyer come in the door. "You need any help unpacking?" He turned to look at his duffel bag pointedly and Sandy laughed. "Alright, point made. But if you need anything, just come in and let us know, ok? I know Kirsten can be a little intense, but she's a good person."

"It's ok," he said quietly. "And… thanks. For this."

"No problem, kid."

His lawyer left the room and he shook his head. What was with people lately and calling him 'kid'?

He couldn't believe everything that had happened. When he'd gotten into the car with Trey – when Trey ran it into a pole and the police got them – he thought it was over. He'd get a stint in juvie and be branded for the rest of his life. Fuck the record being wiped clean after he was eighteen. That shit never went away, especially if an employer really wanted to know.

Sandy Cohen was a fucking miracle, though. He got him out of anything major – a fine and probation time. And the man had invited him into his home after his mom kicked him out. It was just for the night, but still.

He shook his head again and sat on the bed.

* * *

"Thanks again for everything," he said as politely as he could. But he wasn't sure he could help the dread in his voice as he got out of his lawyer's car and stared at his house. Sandy just nodded and waited as he went in.

Everything was gone. Just… fucking everything.

He stared at the place – it seemed a lot bigger with no furniture – for a while, until his eyes landed on the paper towel on the kitchen counter. He stumbled over to it and read the note, written in his mom's lipstick. She moved out, she didn't want him, his stuff was still in his room.

"Hey."

He turned to see Sandy standing in the doorway and he lowered his head so the man couldn't see the shame. And he didn't want to see the pity.

"C'mon," his lawyer continued. "Get your stuff, I'll take you home."

* * *

"We'll need to take you out shopping," Kirsten observed as she stood in his room and stared disdainfully at the clothes laid out on his bed. He'd packed them hurriedly, but he was taking the time now to fold and hang them nicely.

He picked up his last duffel bag and dumped the contents on the bed for Kirsten's inspection. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she glanced over it, but her eyes stopped on something.

"This is pretty," she murmured, reaching down and picking up the red and gold bottle he'd picked up at the garage sale.

"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "I bought it for… my mom. But I never got to give it to her. Obviously…" He didn't feel like explaining Theresa, so he went with his mom. Although now he was wondering if that was the wrong way to go, because Kirsten looked up at him in surprise.

"Well…" she didn't seem to know what to say to that, so he shrugged. "Why don't we just put this over here," she walked over to the bedside table and placed it there. "Unless you want it somewhere else, if it has bad memories…"

"There's ok," he assured her quickly and she smiled tightly back at him.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow. I'll take you, though. Sandy has horrible taste in clothes…" she smiled at him to let him know it was her attempt at humor, and he dutifully smiled back. Then she turned and left the room and he continued putting everything away.

He wasn't sure what the point was, though. It wasn't like he was staying for good.

* * *

Seth was out sailing and he was bored.

Being bored wasn't good, because he started to think about his mom and Trey when he had nothing to do. Sandy still didn't know what was happening with Trey and they had no idea where his mom was. He sighed and sat up, looking over at the bedside table.

Maybe if he'd given the bottle to his mom, things would've turned out differently. Instead he'd gone to a party, been slipped LSD, and hallucinated a genie. Oh yeah, that was a great use of his time.

No wonder his mom kicked him out.

He reached over and picked up the bottle, running his thumb over the painted gold designs. They were almost hypnotic and he found his thumb rubbing harder the longer he stared at it.

He hissed in mild pain as the bottle went white-hot for a second and he dropped it, staring down at his hands. They weren't burnt, which was weird. His vision refocused to the floor, where he expected to see shards of red glass, but there were none. The bottle was unbroken and he reached down tentatively to pick it up.

It was cold and he sighed in relief. What the hell had-

"Good morning, master!"

Oh.

Fuck.

_No_.

He raised his head slowly, like that would make her go away. But it didn't, and she stood in front of him, grinning in all her… red, genie glory.

When had he taken more LSD?

She looked around his room, then out at the main house, then toward the ocean and she let out a surprised _hmm_.

"What?" he asked, putting his hand to his head. He wasn't sure he could handle any more hallucinations. Especially because he was _sure_ he hadn't taken any LSD lately.

Shit, maybe he was insane. Like, maybe he'd had one too many hits to the head and he'd finally snapped.

"I'm just surprised," the… genie's voice brought him back. "Usually vague wishes don't work out so well."

He looked at her again and closed his eyes for a brief second. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she started, still inspecting his room. "'I wish I was out of Chino' is a really vague wish. No specifics as to how or when or where. The only stipulation is 'out of Chino', and that's not much."

"But you granted the wish," he argued. Hell, if he was crazy, he might as well go with it. "Why are you surprised?"

"Oh, you misunderstand," she twisted her mouth up, like she was trying to think. "I… don't actually _grant_ the wishes. I'm more like a catalyst. I'm the magic behind the movement. The master wishes, it goes through me, and karma takes care of the rest."

"Karma," he repeated, trying to wrap his head around it all.

"Karma, kismet, fate, call it what you will, it's all the same. The universe has a mind of its own and it's usually not so kind to vague wishes."

"Oh."

"Like this one master," she started, eyes focusing on something behind him as she spoke. "Back in the 1700s, he wished he had a higher paying job. I know he just wanted to get promoted, but instead he got into a mining accident and lost both his legs. He got a job as a circus freak and he brought in more money than he had at mining."

"Oh."

Well, he might be crazy, but at least he wasn't a circus freak. Step up, right?

"So when you wished to be out of Chino, I expected you to… well, end up as a circus freak or something equally as horrible. I didn't think you'd get adopted by a nice, rich family."

"After my mom abandoned me," he added and she frowned slightly. "But it doesn't matter. I don't think I'd've minded 'circus freak'. Anything's better than Chino. I just wanted out of there, didn't care how, didn't care where."

The genie paused and considered that for a second.

"Maybe that's why it turned out well," she murmured softly, nodding. "Not really a selfish motivation, if you didn't want to be in a _better_ place than Chino. Just a different one. Maybe the universe took pity on you." It looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn't.

He needed to get his head examined, he decided. He'd suggest it to Sandy later.

* * *

"They did scans on you at the hospital," Sandy told him through a mouthful of bagel. "No brain damage. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he backtracked, mind racing. If it wasn't LSD or some other drug, and it wasn't brain damage, then… what the hell?

"Look, kid, I came home early cause I needed to talk to you. It's about Trey."

"Oh."

"His sentencing was today…"

He could barely pay attention to the words, but he got it.

Trey was going to jail.

And staying there.

* * *

He fumed, body tight, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his side.

This was all that fucking genie's fault.

Making sure the blinds were closed, he grabbed the bottle off the bedside table and rubbed it, none too gently. He didn't even flinch when the bottle heated; he stood his ground as she appeared in front of him.

"Hello, master," she greeted like she always did, with a grin on her face.

"You," he slammed her bottle down so hard she winced, but he didn't care.

"Me?"

"You did this," he accused, balling his hands into fists again.

"Alright, I'm going to need you to elaborate, please," she reasoned, like she didn't notice his anger. That only made it worse.

"Trey!" he almost roared, keeping his hands locked at his sides so he didn't hit her. "Trey's in fucking jail, all because of your stupid wish."

"Your wish," she corrected calmly, not flinching when he snarled.

"Trey wasn't a part of my wish," he growled. "Trey wasn't a part of any of it."

"Master, I don't mean any disrespect, but don't you watch TV? Read books? Comics? Listen to stories?" He let out another snarl and she sighed, stepping forward. "There's always consequences. Always. That was why I was surprised your wish turned out well. I didn't realize Trey would be your consequence."

"That's not fair," he insisted, feeling the desperation take over. This wasn't working. Yelling at her wasn't working – she wasn't fixing it. He needed to do something. Trey wasn't part of this.

"I know it's not. But master, do you think having a genie is _fair_? The consequence is to balance out the scales. You get an unfair advantage and something is taken away from you in turn. Only a truly selfless wish has no consequences." She looked sad and shook her head. "I've never granted a wish without consequences."

"Trey wasn't part of this," he whispered, the anger draining from him. Without the adrenaline, he felt limp and useless, shoulders slumping.

"I know."

She stood in front of him and said nothing else while he thought. It wasn't fair. What good was having a genie if all it did was give him a nice life while his brother rotted in jail? Yes, Trey had had a gun and weed on him when they got caught, and it was his idea to steal the car, but wasn't that the wish's fault? Didn't the wish make him do those things?

What the hell good was having a genie if he couldn't help his brother?

He lifted his head and looked at her. "I wish…"

"Master!" she cut in quickly, eyes going wide. "Don't waste…"

"Shut up," he commanded and her mouth snapped shut. "You're _my_ fucking genie and I wish Trey was ok."

She let out a pitiful whine and he watched as she tried not to extend her hand. It didn't seem to work and she lost the struggle against his wish and snapped her fingers.

"There," he nodded, feeling himself shake slightly. "It's done, you can talk."

Her eyes flashed angrily and she glared at him. "You stupid, impulsive boy," she hissed, voice quiet and cold. "You stupid, stupid _boy_." He opened his mouth to protest – because her reaction freaked him out – but she didn't let him speak. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"I helped my brother," he stepped back a little in defense. He sounded like a petulant child and he knew it.

"No. You made a stupid, vague, _selfish_ wish. You know, the kind we were talking about not _ten minutes_ ago."

"How is that selfish?" he shot back, bristling. "It was for Trey."

"No," she said again, so forcefully that his own belief wavered. "You wished he was ok so you could stop feeling guilty."

"I didn't…"

"You did." Her tone left no room for arguments and he swallowed hard. "You humans never get it, do you? Nothing is ever simple. You don't get anything for free. Never. No matter how many masters I explain that to, they never get it. I can't wait to see how this gem ends up."

She gave him one last look – a mixture of anger and pity – before the bottle glowed red and she disappeared.

His hands shook as he sat on the bed.

It was ok. She'd just over reacted. Probably because he hadn't wished her free, right? She was just jealous that he'd helped out someone else.

Right?

Trey would be ok. He _had _to be.

He wasn't sure he could live with himself if Trey were stuck in jail. Trey had always protected him when they were little. He remembered huddling on the floor with Trey standing over him, trying to reason with dad. He remembered Trey stepping in front of him as mom yelled at both of them and her boyfriend cracked his knuckles.

He'd just wanted out of Chino. He hadn't meant for Trey to be a… consequence.

It wasn't fair.

* * *

Trey sat in his cell and stared at the wall. Above him, his cellmate snored loudly, the sound echoing. He could hear other noises from other cells, but he didn't pay attention.

It was just supposed to be another run-of-the-mill carjacking. Some light fun, something to tell their friends they did. He knew Ryan had been feeling left out lately. All he'd been trying to do was include him.

He and Arturo stole cars and he wanted Ryan to be part of his life.

Instead he'd gotten his brother – his fifteen year old brother – arrested. It wasn't fair. It wasn't Ryan's fault. He knew his little brother – the boy never said no. Not to him, not to mom, not to dad. He never said no, he always did what people wanted him to, and now look where it got him. With a black mark all over his file.

Even if what that lawyer – the one with the crazy eyebrows – had said was true, and Ryan was ok and living at the guy's house, he still had the record. Everyone would look at him differently. Judge him.

Ryan didn't deserve that.

He was a good kid. He got good grades and he never said no. Maybe if the stupid kid had said no once in a while, he wouldn't be in this mess. He had to learn how to say no.

He couldn't sleep – hadn't been able to since he got arrested. The other guys had tried hassling him at first, but he'd snapped on his third day and pounded the shit out of one guy who insulted his family.

Not just his family – the guy had insulted Ryan. They all knew his story.

So he'd beat the bitch to near death and now most of the guys in here avoided him. It probably didn't help that he wasn't sleeping and the rings under his eyes were getting deeper and darker every day. It probably didn't help that he walked around like a zombie, lashing out in violence anytime someone even mildly provoked him.

A couple guys had even started following him around, mimicking his posture and expression, like they were his crew or something. He didn't want friends. He didn't want to talk to these people. But he knew it was better to have backup in this place than nothing, so he let them do it.

He needed to get through this. He needed to get out of here – if only to apologize to Ryan for getting him involved.

It wasn't Ryan's fault.

He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes and wished that, wherever his little brother was, he was ok.

_

* * *

_

review


	3. Chapter 3

_You know, I'm really liking this story. I like writing vaguely sci-fi-ish stuff. Plus, making all the genie rules up is fun…_

_Oh, and everything is from Ryan's POV, except for the last part in each chapter. For each chapter, I'm going to have it end with someone else's POV. Not sure why, just something that happened, and it stuck._

_Enjoy!_

_Music: jai guru deva om_

* * *

He left the jail and followed Sandy back to the car, feeling the bile rise in his throat.

Trey didn't look like Trey. Well, he looked like Trey, but a harder, meaner version of Trey. The dark circles, the bruises, the way his eyes took in every little detail, the way he looked over his shoulder every four seconds.

But Trey had assured him – he was ok.

He was quiet through the entire car ride home, and Sandy seemed alright with that. He stared out the window and tried to calm his stomach. Trey was going to be ok – the genie said it, Trey said it, even Sandy said it. The only problem was, he wanted Trey to be 'ok' _outside_ of jail.

And it would be easy if he could blame it on the wish – that stupid first wish about getting out of Chino. But when he really thought about it, Trey always stole cars. It wasn't a one-time thing. He and Arturo ran a fucking business stealing and stripping down cars and selling the parts. And Trey smoked weed, it wasn't new, and he carried a gun sometimes. He'd like to blame the arrest on the wish, but it probably would've happened anyway.

Maybe not that specific night, maybe a few years down the road, but the police always got you. Always.

Maybe – just maybe – the wish had used the arrest to get him out of Chino. Like some sort of parasite, the wish hooked him onto what was supposed to happen so he was brought along for the ride.

He needed to talk to the genie.

* * *

He managed to put the bottle back on the bedside table before it glowed and burned his hand. She came out and stood before him, and he wondered – somewhat idiotically – if she wore the same outfit all the time or if she had multiple sets.

"Good morning, master," she greeted warily. She probably expected him to yell again.

"The wishes," he sat on his bed and gestured that it was ok for her to do the same. "I want you to tell me about them."

"What do you want to know? Did you need to go over the rules again? Because I'd love to remind you of the third one. You know, where you can free me…"

"I want to know exactly what my wishes changed. Can you tell that? Do you know?"

She sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "I can try and do a trace, but it may be something so insignificant, I can't tell."

"Fine, whatever."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He watched as she stayed that way for a while and he was about to interrupt – maybe she was just stalling? – when she opened her eyes again.

"The first wish," she started, "gave your lawyer a flat tire."

"What?" Sandy hadn't said anything about a flat tire…

"Your first lawyer, I mean. You were supposed to have a man named… Dante Miller assigned to you. The wish caused him to get a flat tire on his way to jail and he called Sandy to take over."

"So… the wish popped a guy's tire."

"Yes. That's how wishes work. They can't just… screw with reality. They can't create something out of nothing, they can't transport you through time and space. And they can't mess with free will. All a wish can do is change the circumstances. You were supposed to get Dante Miller and instead you got Sandy, which got you out of Chino."

"That's… the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She huffed in annoyance and frowned at him, pouting. "Seriously. What the hell good is a genie if she can't do actual magic? You _change circumstances?_ That's bull. All you did was pop a fucking tire. You put a hole in rubber. Congratulations, you have the magical powers of a sharp nail."

"Hey!" she snapped, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. "I have more magic than a _sharp nail_, thank you very much. And stop calling me a genie! I'm a Jinn, ok? _Jinn_."

"Fine, whatever. What about the second wish?" She glared at him before closing her eyes and concentrating again.

She was out longer this time and he watched her forehead crease deeper the longer she stayed silent. Finally she let out a breath and opened her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"At least nothing I can find. Your wish did absolutely nothing. Trey was going to be fine no matter what."

He stared at her for a second before his brain kicked back on.

"You are officially the worst genie ever."

"Jinn."

"Whatever. You suck. I wanted Trey out of jail, got it? So we're gonna try this again. I wi-"

"No!" She launched herself forward and managed to place her hand over his mouth before he got the words out. "Have you learned nothing? Selfish wish equals consequences." He tried to talk, but her hand was still over his mouth and he glared at her. "Do you _promise_ not to wish Trey out?"

He hesitated, then nodded, and she lowered her hand. "But Trey…"

"Is going to be ok. He'll make it through jail and he'll get out and he'll be ok. You need to stop worrying about Trey and worry about using your third wish correctly." She bit her lip and looked around his room innocently. "You know, using it for something _important_, like maybe fre…"

"Bottle."

She gritted her teeth and shot him an annoyed look, but the bottle glowed and she disappeared.

He needed to think.

* * *

"Hey, man," Seth walked into the pool house without knocking. Ryan didn't even bother to yell at him – it never worked. "Whoa, what's with the intensity?"

"What?" He sat up and pulled the headphones out of his ears.

"You," Seth waved his hands at him and sat down on the wicker chair. "You have some serious broody face going on."

"Sorry, I was just thinking," he shrugged.

"Do _I _look like that when I think?" His new friend wrinkled his nose in distaste – something he apparently got from his mother.

"I don't know," he shot back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I've never actually _seen_ you think."

"Oh, ha ha," Seth pretended to laugh, slapping his knee for emphasis. "So what's with the thinking?"

"Trey."

"Ah, the brother from another mother," he nodded in understanding, then paused, eyebrows furrowing. "Wait, that's me. Um… I guess he's just your brother then."

"Yeah."

"Is it cause he's in jail? Look, I don't wanna offend you, cause we haven't known each other that long, but… doesn't he kind of deserve jail? I mean, he's over eighteen and he broke the law…" the boy trailed off and waited – it looked like he thought he would hit him, or something.

"No, I get that. But… it's my fault, you know?"

"Cause… it was your idea to steal the car?"

"No. Well… no, it wasn't, but it's my fault, cause I…" Seth was staring at him in obvious confusion and he took a deep breath. "If I tell you something, do you _swear_ not to tell anyone?"

"Totally!" Seth's eyes lit up and he leaned forward excitedly.

"I mean no one," he warned again, standing up. "Not Sandy or Kirsten or that girl Summer you keep following around. _No one_."

"What about Captain Oats? I tell Captain Oats everything."

"Not even Captain Oats."

Seth sat back in his chair and blinked a few times. "Wow. Must be a big secret if even a plastic horse can't know."

"It is. If people heard about this… well, I'm pretty sure I'd get carted off to the nut house or something."

"Alright, man. Shoot."

He took a deep breath and moved over to the bedside table. "I'm not quite sure how to explain it, so I'll just show you."

"A bottle?" Seth questioned, staring at the red and gold glass that he'd picked up. "Your secret's a bottle? Is there alcohol in there? Poison? Are you an international spy sent to Newport to kill off…"

"Seth."

"Sorry."

He sighed and closed his eyes – he still wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but he had to know it wasn't just him. He had to know if Seth saw her, too. Steeling himself he rubbed the bottle and set it down.

For a split second, panic shot through his stomach when nothing happened, but then there was the glow and-

"Jesus and Moses!" Seth stood up so quickly he toppled over the chair and he backed up a few steps, eyes wide and focused on the genie.

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction."

"Hi! You must be Seth."

"Oh God, it knows my name!"

The genie sighed and rolled her eyes, but he agreed with Seth. He knew he'd never told her about him, so she must be psychic or something.

"You know I can see you through the bottle, right?"

What?

"Seriously?"

"Uh huh. It's fun. It's like a soap opera. I used to watch them with my one mistress, back in the 70's. She was obsessed and she had no friends, so she used to bring me out and we'd watch together."

"Oh," was about all he could manage. That was beyond creepy. He really wasn't sure he was ok with her… _watching_ him.

"Well, it's not so much fun some of the time, because you sit around and brood a lot. But the other stuff's fun."

"Alright," Seth's voice cut in. "Pause, rewind. What the _hell_ is going on?"

"I'm a Jinn," she explained cheerily, placing her hands on her hips.

"That's like a genie," he explained and ignored her annoyed huff.

"I know what a Jinn is," Seth waved his hands at him in dismissal and the genie brightened up considerably. "It's just… wow. You have a Jinn."

"Apparently."

"That… is _so cool_."

Seth walked up to the genie and looked over her appraisingly and she showed off for him, twirling on the spot. Somehow, Seth's quick recovery was unsettling. He'd expected a lot of shouting and maybe even some tears.

"Why aren't you… I don't know, freaking out more?"

Seth looked over at him and grinned. "I always knew something like this would happen."

He paused for a moment and considered that.

"You know what? Doesn't surprise me."

* * *

"Boys?" Kirsten called through the door, and all three of them froze. "Time for dinner."

"Thank God," he groaned, standing up. For the past two hours, Seth and the genie had been talking non-stop about… well, magic, in general.

It had started out with genie basics – the rules of wishes, the rules of ownership, if there was an expiration date for the wishes. It had moved from there to the bottle – could she get out on her own or did she have to be summoned? Was it a miniaturized room like on _I Dream of Jeannie_, or did she go to some alternate plane of existence?

After all his genie questions were answered (she had to be summoned and apparently it was a mix of alternate plane of existence and mini-room), they moved on to what other legends were real. Apparently mermaids weren't, but – surprisingly – leprechauns were. Seth then made some comment about how he'd rather have naked fish women around than short, grouchy Irishmen, which had made the genie laugh.

By the time Kirsten called for dinner, he had a headache. He wasn't like Seth – he didn't have a sci-fi obsession and he hadn't grown up in a sheltered mansion where dreams came true. So all the talk of genies and mermaids and fucking _leprechauns_ was making his head pound.

"We'll continue this later," Seth stood up and the genie got off the floor and nodded.

"Absolutely. I think you're the first person I've ever met that's taken a genuine interest in the mythos of Jinn."

"Well, it's fascinating," Seth shook his head. "All the misconceptions…"

"Seth." Both of them looked at him and he nodded out toward the main house. Seth sighed and went out.

"You really got lucky, master," the genie watched his brother go and smiled. "He's a smart boy."

"Unlike me."

"I didn't say that."

"You did the other day," he reminded her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Maybe I should just give you to Seth, since you two've bonded so much."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, linking her hands behind her back and looking thoroughly ashamed. "It's just so rare to find someone who understands. Or, _tries_ to understand. Every other man I've met – master or not – has either tried to get me to take my clothes off or used his three wishes as quickly as possible or tried to get extra wishes…"

He brought one hand up to rub the back of his neck as she stared down at the floor. "So which category do I fit into?" he asked and she looked up at him in surprise.

"I don't know. I haven't pegged you down, yet," she murmured, giving him a strange look. "You should go eat dinner with your new family, master."

The bottle glowed red and she vanished and he sighed.

He wasn't sure what the hell category he fell into, either.

* * *

"Seth, slow down," Sandy chuckled as his son inhaled his food.

"Sorry, dad." The boy slowed down – barely. Next to him, the newest addition glared at the other boy. He barely caught the look – hidden under Ryan's ducked head and bangs – but he saw it and wondered what that was about. Probably nothing. His son did a lot to deserve glares. "I have a question," Seth asked suddenly, through a mouthful of food. "If you could have three wishes, what would they be?"

There was a movement under the table and his son winced as Ryan glared. What in the world was going on? Probably some private joke.

"I think I'd wish for my mom to still be alive." His wife was – surprisingly – actually taking this seriously. "And I'd wish for dad to be proud of the work I do at the Newport Group…" He placed his hand on her shoulder and she looked up, flushing slightly. She probably didn't realize she'd said that out loud. She gave him a _look_ – _sorry, I didn't mean to be depressing at the dinner table_. He gave her a look back – _it's ok. You know I love you, right?_

She smiled.

"You need a third, mom," Seth reminded her, breaking their silent conversation.

"Oh…" she sighed and shrugged. "World peace, I guess."

"Now _there's_ a wish," he laughed, leaning over and kissing his wife. She was so beautiful when she was pretending to be strong.

"Dad?" His son pointed at him with a fork. "What about you?"

He paused and thought hard about what he'd wish for. Sure, there were the general things like money and cars and – yes – world peace. He sighed.

"Nothing."

"You'd wish for nothing?" It was Ryan that spoke, staring at him intently.

"Well," he reasoned. "I have a good family, we're not hurting for money or food or clothes. I like my work. I'd say I'm a reasonably happy man. No need to ruining it with wishes that may or may not turn out the way I expected."

Ryan nodded and lowered his head back down to stare at his plate, but he didn't eat any more.

He'd have to ask Seth later what this was all about.

_

* * *

_

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	4. Chapter 4

_This story is turning out way darker than I originally intended it to be, but oh well. And I'm not sure why I had it rated M, since it's totally not, so I changed it._

_Enjoy!_

_Music: you get me closer to God_

* * *

Marissa Cooper was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. No matter how much he hung out with her, he kept having to look at her to make sure she was still there – that she was real. She was beautiful and fragile and he couldn't believe she wanted to hang out with _him_.

Alright, so she had a slight drinking problem and she tended to overreact a lot, but to be fair, her parents were getting divorced. That had to be tough, right? Especially when her dad got punched out at Cotillion and then she found Luke attached to Holly by the face.

God, he nearly had a heart attack when he found her in that alley in TJ, limp and broken. He'd cursed himself soundly for not bringing the genie bottle along. But everything had turned out ok, she recovered, she didn't get carted off to rehab, and he'd gotten into Harbor.

Things were settling down.

He walked through the halls with Marissa and they came upon Seth and Summer arguing, and he shot a look at his… friend? She rolled her eyes in response.

"Sum," she greeted, breaking up the fight. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Summer spat, still fuming.

"Hey, man," Seth greeted with relief. "Good timing."

"You know what would be awesome?" Marissa caught their attention and they both turned to her. "We should all go out. Like to the movies."

He nodded and shared a smile with her. As soon as Seth and Summer realized they were perfect for each other, they'd stop fighting all the time… maybe.

"I'm up for it," he shrugged and Seth nodded his agreement. They all turned to Summer and waited for her answer. He suspected it was the peer pressure mixed with her secret desire to go that overwhelmed her pride.

"Fine. But it is _not_ a double date, and I refuse to sit next to Cohen."

"Alright," Marissa linked her arm with Summer and dragged her away.

"Dude," Seth hissed happily and attempted to punch him in the shoulder. "I'm going on a double date with Summer!"

* * *

"No, no, the blue one."

Seth sighed and went back to his closet, pulling off the red button up he'd had on.

"Dude, have I mentioned how kickass it is that you have a genie?"

He rolled his eyes and lounged on Seth's bed as the genie stood and watched Seth put on the blue shirt. He had to admit, she was better at the fashion stuff than he was.

"See, you look better in blue. Plus, it's a soothing color. Red may just provoke this Summer girl."

"Anything provokes Summer," he cut in with a bored tone, picking up one of Seth's comics.

"Are you sure she's a good match for Seth?" the genie asked, placing her hands on her hips. "She doesn't sound nice."

"She's wondrous," Seth sighed and leaned against his dresser.

"She's cool," he agreed, but the genie didn't look convinced.

"I want to see her," she decided suddenly, nodding. "So I can judge. I'm a _great_ judge of character."

"Right," he put the comic down and sat up. "I'm sure that'd go over great. _Hey Summer, this is my genie, she just wants to say hi_."

"I'm a Jinn. And just take my bottle with you. I can observe through there."

He was about to say no when Seth perked up. "That's a great idea! Then you can give me pointers and stuff when we get back!"

She nodded and they both turned to him, looking hopeful. He sighed.

* * *

He was sure people could hear his heart. But no one shushed him during the movie, so maybe they couldn't? Either way, _he_ could hear it – the way it pounded, the way it skipped a beat every time he stole a glance at her, the way it froze every time her hand brushed his as they both reached for the popcorn at the same time.

Marissa Cooper was _the_ most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And she kept giving him little smiles throughout the movie, which had to be good, right?

"That was disgusting," Summer whined as they left the theater. "I did _not_ need to see that in 3D."

"I have to go with Sum on that," Marissa agreed, laughing a little as they walked. "Shark attacks in 3D? Kind of tasteless."

"Tasteless?" Seth gasped in horror. "More like _brilliant_! I mean, what's better than seeing sharks bite people's legs off? Sharks biting people's legs off _in 3D_."

"I think I may lock myself in my room during Shark Week," he muttered, ducking his head over a smile as Marissa and Summer giggled. Wait, was he funny? Seth and Sandy kept telling him he wasn't, but he'd made Marissa laugh…

"You'll be missing out on good stuff, man," Seth shook his head. "Think of it: a couch, a cooler full of orange soda, a smorgasbord of snacks, me and Sandy Cohen and all of our witticisms."

"Yeah, I'll be in my room."

Seth pouted, but Marissa laughed, so it was worth it.

* * *

"So?" Seth fiddled with his hands anxiously as the genie appeared. "What did you think?"

The genie didn't say anything for a while, and he could tell she was just screwing with Seth. He almost laughed, but that would give it away.

"I like her."

Seth visibly relaxed at the genie's approval, but he was still looking a little pale.

"Thank Moses, I thought maybe her comments during the shark movie would've made you not like her, cause I know she can come off as mean, but she's really not, you know? She just…"

"She has a good heart," the genie interrupted softly. "And she does like you, if that's any consolation."

He almost laughed at the way Seth went absolutely white with shock.

"Oh… I think I have to go… just… go." His brother rushed out of the pool house, stumbling a bit on the way to the main house.

"They'll make such an adorable pair," the genie sighed, sitting on his bed.

"Yeah," he agreed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It'd be nice if I could wish for her to fall in love with him."

"Well," she frowned, "it wouldn't work first of all because I can't do that." He was about to tell her he knew that; it was a just a joke, but she kept going. "And second, I don't think it'd work because she already does love him."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. At least I think so. I've been around a long time, master, and I think I've gotten quite good at reading people. She may not love him to the extent that he loves her, but she's getting there. She just has a lot of pride and – if I'm not mistaken – she's been hurt in the past? Someone she loved went away?"

"Her mom," he shrugged, sitting on the wicker chair. The genie nodded with him. "By the way, you can stop with the 'master' stuff. Just call me Ryan."

"I can't," she told him simply. "It's part of the rules."

"Oh." The master thing had been kind of fun at first, but it wasn't so much, now. Now it was just weird. She smiled at him and he ducked his head, because he was suddenly uncomfortable. "Um… what did you think of Marissa?"

"I wasn't there to observe Marissa," she stated and rose off the bed, walking over to her lamp.

"Yeah, but you had to've seen her. What did you think?" He watched as she bit her lip and turned away from him, and it struck him that she didn't _want_ to answer. That couldn't be good. "And don't lie. Wait, _can_ you lie to me?"

"No."

"Good. Then answer."

She sucked in a large breath and turned to him. "I didn't like her."

"Why?" Alright, even though he'd had some warning, that wasn't the answer he wanted.

"Because."

Oh, fuck no was she getting out of this. "Because isn't an answer. Why didn't you like her?"

"Because she's no good for you."

There was a pause as he absorbed that and the genie looked… scared?

Marissa was no good for him? Oh… she meant he wasn't good enough for Marissa. That made sense. She was rich and beautiful and he was a kid from Chino. Of course he wasn't good enough for her.

"Any reason in particular?" he asked through a suddenly dry throat. Apparently he was masochistic, because he… _needed_ to know why he wasn't good enough for her. Maybe he could improve something?

"She didn't do anything _wrong_," the genie gritted out, like she was trying not to answer. "But there's no way she's good enough for you. First of all, I don't think she's stable enough, and the last thing you need is instability. What _you_ need is a nice girl who'll understand what you've gone through and support you and…"

"Wait," he interrupted. "She's not good enough for me?"

What the hell?

The genie gave him this _duh_ look and nodded. He ran his hand over his face and sighed. That was bullshit. The genie was just saying that because he could free her.

But if she wanted to bribe him and make him happy, why wouldn't she agree that he was perfectly matched with Marissa? That would make him happy.

"You're wrong," he told her, making his voice strong, so it didn't sound like he was unsure. She turned away from the bedside table and looked at him. She must've seen the resolution in his face, because she frowned. When he didn't break eye contact, her frown deepened into what could only be described as a pout and she crossed her arms over her stomach.

"Of course, master," she gritted out, then turned away from him. And as the bottle glowed red and she disappeared, he thought he heard her mutter something about _stupid girl _and _my master._

Great.

The last thing he needed was a jealous genie…

* * *

Marissa giggled and hugged her books to her chest as they walked. He ducked his head over a smile and felt his heart pound.

The genie was wrong. Marissa wasn't wrong for him. The genie was just jealous that he was spending time with someone who was actually human. She was probably jealous of Marissa herself – because Marissa wasn't stuck inside some bottle.

The thought made his stomach turn and he felt guilt stab at him – not for the first time. But like usual, he managed to push it back. It was the genie's _job_ to live in a bottle and grant wishes, right? Nothing to feel guilty about.

"Shit!"

He turned just in time to watch Marissa hit the ground and people in the hall gasped.

"What happened?" he bent down and helped her up. She cradled her right wrist in her left hand and a tear ran down her face.

"I slipped," she sniffed. "I think I need to go to the nurse."

Without another word she walked away and he looked at the ground. There was nothing there. She probably just slipped in her heels or something. They didn't look like the most practical walking shoes.

* * *

"Marissa went home," Summer sighed and dropped onto the couch between him and Seth.

"Did she break her wrist?" he gripped his coffee cup tighter – it hadn't _looked_ broken, but maybe he was wrong?

"No, she just complained until they let her go. She said she couldn't write anyway, so what was the point of staying in school?"

"Oh."

* * *

Julie glared at him as he walked by her, but he kept his cool. Somehow. He made his way up to Marissa's room and knocked on her door.

"God mom, leave me alone!" Marissa whined from the other side. "I don't _need_ soup, it's just a sprained wrist."

"Marissa?" he called gently.

"Ryan?"

There was movement and the door opened. "What are you doing here?"

He frowned, because she kept her head low, so he could barely see her face. That wasn't like her – usually she kept her head held high.

"I came to see how you were. Is everything ok?"

Her head rose slowly and he saw she was on the verge of tears.

"Look at my face!" she whispered, moving over toward the mirror before he could really look. She leaned toward the glass and scrutinized herself. "I'm breaking out everywhere!"

It was then that he saw it – little red marks blemishing her otherwise perfect skin. "It doesn't look bad," he shrugged. She was still beautiful, but apparently she couldn't see that. Didn't she get that a couple breakouts weren't that big of a deal?

Apparently not, because she started to cry.

* * *

"Oh my God!" Summer leaned up against the locker next to Seth's dramatically. "Marissa just called me."

"What's up?" Seth questioned, surprisingly relaxed. He'd calmed down a bit since the genie had told him Summer actually liked him – it was like he was less nervous. Not by much, but it was still an improvement.

"She got in an accident," Summer gushed as they started to walk.

"Is she ok?" he cut in hurriedly.

"She's fine. Just a fender-bender. She called me to bitch about the guy that cut her off. But at least she gets out of school today. She told her mom she was too emotionally drained to go, and you know Julie Cooper…"

"Anything to make her baby happy," Seth cut in drily.

"Totally. It's just weird. I feel bad for Coop. It's like something's cosmically out to get her, you know? First the fall, then the breakouts, now the accident? Next thing you know, she'll get food poisoning or something…"

He froze in the middle of the hallway and ignored the strange looks he got.

Oh _fuck_ no.

* * *

"Hello, master!"

She stood in front of him, smiling broadly as he paced in front of her.

"Can you do stuff?" he asked, stomach clenching. "Like… non-wish stuff? Can you make stuff happen if I don't wish it?" She didn't answer right away and her silence was enough. "Shit…"

"Is there something you needed?" she asked politely, like she wasn't even ashamed of it. She was a fucking good manipulator, he had to hand it to her.

"Leave Marissa alone," he stopped his pacing and turned to her.

"I'm just trying to help you," she put her hands on her hips, frowning.

"By almost getting Marissa killed?"

"_Killed_?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "It was barely an accident and it wasn't even her 'fault', so she won't have to pay or anything. I'm just trying to keep her away from you, ok?"

"Why?"

"We've already been through this. She's no good for you. You deserve someone better, who'll take care of you and…"

"I want you to stop." She shut up quickly, but she didn't look happy about it. He didn't care, though; he was fucking _angry_. "You," he ground out, "are a genie. You aren't _my_ master, I'm yours, remember? Stop fucking with my life unless I wish it, ok?"

"But… I don't _like_ her," she complained, sticking her bottom lip out like a child.

"I don't care if you like her or not. Just because I'm spending time with her – just because she's everything you're not – don't take it out on her."

The pout faded from the genie's face and he felt his stomach go cold.

"Yes, master," she whispered quietly and it struck him for the first time that she may actually have feelings – beyond sadistic humor and anger. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the bottle glowed red and she disappeared.

He contemplated taking her out again, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

* * *

"How's your wrist feel, honey?" her mom cooed as she came into the kitchen.

"It hurts," she shot back, like the answer was obvious. To be honest, though, it hurt a hell of a lot less than it had earlier.

She turned away from her mom and bent her wrist experimentally and decided that – no – it definitely wasn't as bad as it had been. And before she left her room, she'd noticed that her blemishes had all but disappeared. Add to that the fact that the other driver was paying for all the damages to her car _and_ her mom was letting her drive her car until it was fixed, and things were looking up.

Whatever streak of bad luck she'd had seemed to be over.

She wondered if she should give Ryan a call, but then she remembered Luke had called her earlier and left a message asking how she was. Maybe she should give him a call back? It would be rude to ignore him, right?

Just because he was her ex, didn't mean they couldn't hang out.

_

* * *

_

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	5. Chapter 5

_Alright, this is actually about a third shorter than the other chapters, but I had to end it where I did…_

_Enjoy!_

_Music: O Valencia, with your blood getting cold on the ground… and I swear to the stars, I'll burn this whole city down_

* * *

"So," he started awkwardly, eyes fixed to the floor. "The Newport Group's having this… lame party thing, and I know it'll be really boring, but I thought… you know, I thought maybe we could hang out together and keep each other from getting really bored…" He trailed off and looked up to catch her smiling at him sympathetically. She knew he was asking her to the party – just not in those exact words.

"I'd love to go," she sighed, still smiling, "but my dad can't go to them anymore, so I thought I'd hang out with him. You know, to keep him company."

"Right," he agreed hastily, trying to backtrack. "You should hang out with your dad."

"Maybe some other party?" she offered and he nodded.

* * *

"I told you to stop fucking with my life," he growled as the genie stood in front of him.

"What did I do this time? Wear the wrong outfit?" He glared at her sarcasm as she gestured down at the outfit she always wore.

"Marissa turned me down," he growled, his gaze fixing on the wall stubbornly.

"That wasn't me," she defended. "I stopped meddling, ok? Her turning you down was her decision, unless some other genie's messing with her."

He clenched his jaw and fought the urge to argue. She couldn't lie to him, so he knew she wasn't.

But it would be so much easier if it was her fault.

* * *

"Why don't you take your hot little slave girl?" Seth grinned as they lounged in his room, reading comics. They'd taken to not hanging out in the pool house a lot, because it was creepy with the genie watching them.

"The genie?" he lowered his comic to stare at his brother.

"Yeah. I mean, she's hot, right? And if Marissa hears you went with someone, maybe she'll realize her mistake, you know? And then the Newpsies won't hound you the entire time and try to either hook you up with their daughters or hook up with you themselves."

Alright, Seth was being entirely too reasonable. And he was right – the Newpsies _loved_ to hit on him whenever he was alone. But the idea of spending the entire night with the genie made him want to hit his head against the wall.

She was annoying. She was loud and opinionated and she talked constantly about the stupidest things – like fucking leprechauns. Plus, Seth had been letting her borrow his anime collection, so she'd been raving about that ever since.

It was either Newpsies or the genie.

* * *

"You're inviting me to a party?" She sounded confused, and she had every right to. He'd made it obvious that she annoyed him.

"Yes," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I need protection from the women here. Plus, Seth says it'll make Marissa jealous or something…"

"Oh, well, I'm flattered," she put her hand over her heart and smiled, but he caught the sarcasm. "I'm a shield for Newport women _and_ I get to make some other girl jealous?"

"Sorry," he shrugged. "It's ok, I'd rather not waste my last wish on this, anyway."

She bit her lip and seemed to think for a minute, before sighing. "You wouldn't have to wish," she admitted, sounding a little depressed. "I'm allowed to do stuff that doesn't require magic. Like getting dressed up and going to a party doesn't require a miracle. The only way you'd have to wish for me to go is if I don't _want_ to do it. Then you can_ make_ me by wishing."

"Oh." He paused and weighed the options again – this time adding in the embarrassment of near-begging her to go. Somehow, the pro side still won out. "So… _will_ you go with me?"

"Yes."

Her answer was automatic and it took him by surprise. He figured he'd have to grovel a bit more, until she got bored and gave in. Maybe she wasn't as sadistic as he thought.

* * *

"You need a name," he continued, pacing. He was nervous as hell about taking a fucking _genie_ to a Newport party, which was making him actually talk. "I can't keep calling you genie all night."

"No, that'd be a little weird," she agreed, furrowing her brow. Then she snapped her fingers and her outfit changed again and she regarded herself in the mirror.

"I guess 'Jeannie' would be a little obvious," he reasoned. Through the mirror, she glared at him.

"And let's not forget: a pun. Puns are the lowest form of humor."

"Right, no puns," he grinned and she nodded. Then she snapped her fingers again and the outfit changed.

"Do you have a baby name book?" she looked over her shoulder at him and caught his look. "Of course not." Her mouth twisted up as she turned back to the mirror and she snapped her fingers again, changing the dress. It was blue this time. "Oh! How about Elizabeth?"

"Why Elizabeth?" He slung the tie around his neck and took hold of the ends, trying to remember how Sandy did it.

"After Elizabeth Taylor. I met her once, you know, back in the sixties." She smiled happily and smoothed out the now green dress. "Richard Burton got a hold of my lamp. That's how she got the part in '_Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_' She was so glamorous, I always wanted to be her."

"You don't strike me as an Elizabeth," he shrugged and she frowned. "What about Taylor?"

"Taylor," she repeated, testing out the name. "I guess it works. Now all I need is a dress."

"That one's fine," he gestured at the purple thing she was wearing. Apparently that wasn't the right answer, because she rolled her eyes.

"Right. The first time I get to go out and mingle with real people in… seven hundred years and you want me to wear _this_?"

"Fine, whatever, just- wait, seven _hundred_ years?"

She nodded and snapped her fingers again and he made a noise of protest at the orange dress. "Yeah, the last master to take me out was in fourteenth century Rome. He wanted to show me off to the emperor and raise his stature, but the emperor had him executed and took me for himself."

"Wow." She nodded, and he was glad she thought he'd said that to her story.

"I like this one," she decided, nodding at the red and gold dress. He swallowed hard and nodded as well. "I guess I should just learn to stick with what I know," she joked, gesturing at her bottle. He tried to smile and focused on getting his tie done.

* * *

"Did your bottle throw up on you?" Seth murmured as they stood on the fringe of the party. The genie – Taylor – giggled and shook her head.

"I just look best in red and gold, I guess. Maybe that's why my bottle is those colors? Maybe whoever made me knew that?"

"What d'you mean whoever 'made' you?" She shrugged, seemingly unfazed by his question.

"Well, I'm assuming someone made me," she reasoned. "How else would I get like this?"

Seth shrugged, but Summer had apparently caught his eye through the crowd of people, and he headed in that direction.

"So you've always been a genie?" he questioned as they stood and watched the party. "Since the beginning of time?"

"Actually," she sighed, "the first master I had was around 500 BC, in Persia. The first thing I remember is being summoned."

"So… were you human before you were a genie?" The thought made him slightly nauseous, but he pushed that down. He'd just always assumed 'genie' was like… a race of people or something.

"I don't know. I don't remember and Cyrus didn't mention it, so I just assumed I was made."

He nodded and let it go, because it was unsettling. Not just because she was – apparently – over two thousand years old, but also because she may or may not have been human.

* * *

"There was one, in France a couple years ago," she continued after they both stopped laughing. "His name was Henri-Michel, and he was an _artist_."

"What did he wish for?"

She started talking about the guy wishing for a better art set and he laughed. Which surprised him, actually, because he was having a better time than he expected. She'd been regaling him with stories that were – frankly – hilarious. Apparently men tended to be incredibly stupid when faced with a girl in a genie outfit and the promise of three wishes.

"…so I thought, you know, artist: probably a good guy, right? He turned out to be this big perv." She rolled her eyes as she thought back to it, but he frowned.

"Wait, did he make you…"

"Oh, I can't have sex," she shook her head.

"Part of the rules?"

"No, I just don't have the parts for it."

"You mean you don't have…"

"Nope. Built like a Barbie."

"Oh."

She seemed totally unfazed by the prospect. Sex was fun, and she seemed totally ok with never being able to have it. Probably because she didn't know what she was missing out on. The bigger problem was, she didn't know what she was missing out on for everything. She didn't eat or sleep or – apparently – have sex. She didn't have friends or family or any human connection besides one person that summoned her and wished for things.

"Everything here's so pretty," she sighed, eyes wide as she took in the lights and decorations. "It's like a grand ball, you know?"

"It's not so pretty when you look a little deeper," he muttered.

"Nothing ever is."

* * *

"She's pretty," Summer commented, tapping her foot. He sighed and turned away from the buffet table to face her.

"Look, I know I'm supposed to be with Marissa, but she said no…"

"I know." Summer's face softened and she uncrossed her arms. "Look, I love Coop. She's my best friend, but don't let her string you along, ok? If you'll be happy with that girl over there, then do it. Marissa likes you, but she's… she can be flaky. And I like you, and I think we're friends, so I don't want you to get hurt."

"Wow, Roberts. Touching." He tried to hide a smile with his cup when she glared. "But thanks."

* * *

The genie was still admiring herself in the mirror, but he wasn't paying attention.

The party was over and so was... this. He'd promised to wish her free – multiple times – but he'd done it casually. It was like telling someone they looked good – a little white lie to make them feel better. He'd promised, but he'd never given it any real thought.

But this time, he was actually going to do it.

Something about tonight had struck a chord. Maybe it was Summer's comment about deserving to be happy, or maybe it was the genie's comment about how nothing was ever as it seemed, but it had hit him that she deserved to be free. To be free, have a life, be happy.

Because even though she was twirling in the mirror to admire her dress one last time, she wasn't happy. How could she be as a slave?

He was going to wish her free.

* * *

Kirsten grinned at her husband – currently pouting in the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry, honey, I know you hate these parties."

"It's not the parties, it's the people. If I have to hear about foie gras one more time, I'm gonna shoot myself."

She giggled, placing her hand over her mouth. Then she turned to stare out at the road as they drove, kicking off her heels. She didn't mind the parties, but it was always nice to get them over with and go home to her family.

"I'll repay you," she teased her husband, who turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Now _that_ is incentive."

She smiled again – this time reveling in her power over him. Even after all these years, he was still entranced by her. The feeling was mutual, though. She didn't know what she'd do without him. He was her rock, her life support. He was what kept her grounded in reality, kept her moral center pointing north. He was the father of her children and the love of her life.

And that was her last thought as the truck slammed into the passenger side of their car.

_

* * *

_

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	6. Chapter 6

_Alright, about half the length of the other chapters, but I couldn't really fit any more into this chapter without ruining the pacing of the story. So… short chapter, more of a filler. Btw, thanks to Krisz for giving me a kickass idea. Thanks!_

_  
Enjoy!_

_Music: you are the bluest light_

* * *

The waiting room was cold.

Hospitals always were.

He remembered them from when he was a kid, when his 'accidents' were bad enough for his dad to relent and take him. Even after dad, he'd wind up in the hospital at least once a month – from Trey or one of mom's boyfriends or just his own damn stupidity. Like the one time he tried that trick on his bike to impress Theresa and ended up cracking his skull open.

He hated hospitals and the doctors that would come in and nod when he told them he 'fell'. The only good things about hospitals were the nurses and the drugs. But mostly the nurses. Nurses weren't stupid. Nurses understood what was going on; they were the only ones to ever question his stories, to ever look at the bruises on his neck and recognize the hand prints. Or at least they were the only ones who acknowledged it.

There was one nurse, back in Fresno, when he was six, who'd asked him what his home life was like. It was the closest he'd come to getting away from his parents in the fifteen years he spent with them – well, only eight of those with his dad, but fifteen with his mom. The only reason he didn't end up in foster care – or, if the nurse had had her way, living with her – was because she couldn't get Trey out, too.

He'd stayed for Trey and now Trey was in jail and he was back in a fucking hospital.

At the end of the couch, Seth was bouncing his leg up and down at the speed of light, head twitching nervously over to the door every three seconds. Over to the operating room door.

Where Kirsten was.

Sandy sat between them, head in his hands, covered in multiple cuts and bruises, but otherwise fine.

Kirsten was in a coma.

Summer sat on the other couch, leaning across the gap to grip Seth's hand. Apparently she'd been with him when he got the call, and had come for support. Who would've thought it'd take the guy's mom almost dying for her to drop the bitch act?

Not the time, he told himself, eyes drifting back to the door. Back where Kirsten was. In a coma.

Was this his fault? His consequence? The second wish hadn't _done_ anything, so he assumed it wouldn't have any repercussions. But maybe the fact that he had made a selfish wish - effective or not - meant he got a consequence, too? Becuase he'd wished for Trey to be ok, Kirsten wouldn't be? How the fuck was that fair?

It wasn't and that was the whole point.

He had to do something.

* * *

The bottle flared white hot and he reveled in the pain.

"Master, where've you been?"

She looked worried, but he couldn't care right now. He'd gotten the call right after they got home from the party. Right before he was going to free her. He'd gotten the call and left the pool house and went to the hospital.

"Sandy and Kirsten got in an accident," he managed to get out, even though his mouth was dry and his throat was tight. "Sandy's ok but Kirsten…"

"Oh."

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "She's in a coma. They keep saying there's a chance she won't wake up…" She didn't say anything, but the look on her face said she got it.

He wasn't going to free her.

He couldn't. The Cohens took him in. They saved him. He owed them – he owed them his life and he had the chance to pay them back.

"Before you wish," she said, voice low and calm. "Think out your question. Leave as few loopholes as possible. Don't wish her to be 'ok'. She can be ok in a coma, so… just think it through, alright? She's not going anywhere, so take your time."

He nodded and left the pool house.

* * *

"You have a Jinn."

His brother was pacing in the deserted hallway outside his mom's new hospital room. The surgeon had said that they'd done all they could for her – it was just a waiting game now.

"I know. I went and talked to her already." He kept his voice low, just in case anyone was listening. "She said to really think about the wish before we made it. You know, take out all the loopholes."

"Are you sure she's not just procrastinating because she wants you to free her?"

"Probably, but she's still right. Kirsten… she could turn out like Trey. She could be fine in a coma, and that's not what we want."

"Right," Seth wiped his palms on his pants and took a deep breath. "Well, no time like the present to get started, right?"

"Right."

They sat in the hall and Seth pulled out the pad of paper he carried around everywhere and the graphite pencil. It was his emergency sketch set and apparently this qualified.

"Number one: we want her to wake up."

* * *

"I'm ready."

It had taken two days for him and Seth to come up with the perfect wish. They'd gone through every possible scenario they could think of – she could be 'ok' in a coma, she could wake up and not be able to walk, she could wake up and die from complications right after, she could wake up and have no memory of them, she could wake up and hide in her room for the rest of her life.

He hoped Seth got some of Sandy's lawyer mind, because lawyers were good at finding loopholes, right? The only reason they hadn't asked Sandy himself was because adding a genie to the mix probably wouldn't do well for his sanity right now.

"If you're sure."

The genie stood in front of him, hands linked behind her back like she was waiting for the firing squad. He sighed and gripped the piece of paper tightly. Seth had written the wish down, so he wouldn't fuck it up.

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

"I was going to, you know. I told you I'd free you, and I want to…"

"Master, it's ok." Her face was totally blank, but that didn't help the guilt. He felt his stomach clench as she stared at the far wall vacantly. "You don't have to lie."

"I'm not… I want to. I was going to… I meant to."

"No you didn't. If you were going to free me, you would've done it already. You would've done it the minute you promised."

He wanted to argue, but she was right. There'd been nothing holding him back, but he'd held off.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Do what you have to. I'm used to it."

"I'm really sorry," he tried again. He needed her to understand. He needed to be a good person. He needed to be someone who kept his word.

Except he wasn't.

"Do you know how many masters promised me they'd free me? Eight hundred and sixty-four. Do you know how many of them _actually_ freed me?" The question needed no answer. "You're only human. Now, make your wish. The sooner you do, the sooner Kirsten gets better."

"I'm really sorry." He sounded stupid, repeating the same thing over and over again, and he couldn't help feeling like a social worker. _Of course I'll help you; you can trust me._ Then backing out at the last minute because something came up. He'd heard those words all his life but she'd heard them eight hundred and sixty-four times.

Eight hundred and sixty-five, now.

The genie smiled at him – sadly, understandingly – and stepped toward him. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping back.

"Do it."

* * *

Seth sat by his mother's bed.

She was so pale. He always made jokes about how pale _he_ was – how the Jewish part of him formed an invisible barrier against the sun and how her Gentile genes did nothing to help him get color. Now she was whiter than he was, pale as a ghost.

It was almost ironic.

He didn't know what was taking Ryan so long. He should be home by now, and how long did a wish take? Was there a time delay? His mom should be awake by now.

They'd worked on the wish for two days, running every option they could. They'd made all the requirements: for her to be physically, mentally, psychologically, socially and financially healthy. But the Jinn had explained the rules. If it was a selfish wish, the universe would find a way to screw it up. And as much as he liked to pretend otherwise, this _was_ a selfish wish. He wanted his mother back. He _needed_ his mother back. And throughout their whole brainstorming process, he kept trying to joke that the Jewish lawyer part of him would think of every stipulation and that Ryan himself was no dummy.

But when it came right down to it, it was two desperate _children_ against the universe.

How could they possibly win?

It didn't matter though. All he wanted was his mother. If she came back flawed, he'd take it, so long as she was awake and capable of loving him. That was all he needed.

It was all he wanted.

The pinky finger on his mother's hand twitched and he sat bolt upright and stared at it. He waited – breathlessly – until it happened again, before knocking the chair over and bounding out of the room, calling for his dad and a nurse.

The nurse rushed by him, then back out as he stood with his dad in the hall, and only a minute later, a doctor passed by. His dad gripped his shoulder painfully as they waited for what seemed like hours, but according to the clock on the wall was only thirteen minutes.

And then he heard it – his mother's voice, asking if her husband was ok, if her sons were ok.

He managed to lock his knees before they gave out on him and told his dad he needed to call Ryan. His dad barely noticed, he just nodded and rushed into the room.

Out in the lobby, he held his cell up to his ear with a shaking hand and heard Ryan's somber voice pick up the other end.

"She's awake," he managed to get out, although it came out sounding a little more girly than he would've liked. "The wish worked."

Ryan made some sort of noise on the other end, but he clicked his cell shut without really listening.

He wanted to go see his mother.

_

* * *

_

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	7. Chapter 7

_I'm not sure this is how everyone was expecting it to go… ah well…_

_Btw, the 'other person POV' section is a LOT longer than it was supposed to be. She just got away from me…_

_Music: come on, we got our backs to the wall, get on and watch out, before you kill us all_

* * *

"So how's your mom?" Summer placed her hand on Seth's arm and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Summer liked Seth, but it was kind of annoying that she was only being nice because Kirsten was in the hospital. He liked Summer – he did – but he also liked Seth. He wanted what was best for Seth, and if this girl was only going to jerk the guy around, then he didn't want her to do the sympathy thing.

"She's doing good. Awake and yelling at everyone again, so I think she'll be fine." The joke fell sort of flat, because Seth still had that scared shitless look, but at least he was trying.

"The doctors say she can come home in a couple days, so long as nothing else goes wrong," he added.

"That's great," Summer nodded and linked her arm in Seth's as they started to walk down the hall. "It's like… a miracle she's doing so well, you know?"

As they walked, Seth shot him a look.

* * *

He sat on his bed and stared at the bottle, frowning. After a few seconds, he tried again, rubbing his thumb over the smooth glass, harder than had ever been necessary before.

It didn't work; the bottle stayed cold in his hands.

She wasn't coming out.

He'd used his last wish and now he couldn't even fucking take her out of the bottle.

Before he made the wish, she told him that once he used it, he'd have to give up the bottle. It was her _destiny_ to go to someone else – to be _used_ again.

He was such a horrible human being. He should've wished her free, he should've kept his word. But it was Kirsten. How could he turn his back on her? She'd taken him in and given him a home, even if she'd been wary of it. So he'd used his wish and now the bottle wasn't his to keep anymore. He had to give it to someone else. And he knew he should give it to someone worthy – someone moral, like Seth, or someone who needed it, like some of the kids back in Chino.

But for some reason, he couldn't do it. He couldn't let her be used again, so he was going to keep her, even if he could never take her out again.

* * *

"Shit."

"What's up?" Seth threw over his shoulder, not bothering to look away from the video game.

"The bottle," he muttered, rooting through his bag. He'd started to take the genie bottle everywhere he went, so no one could take it from him. He wouldn't have her used again.

"You lost it?" Apparently this was big enough for Seth to pause the game and turn around. "How could you lose it?"

"It's not like I _meant_ to," he shot back, dumping the contents out of his bag onto the bed. School books, paper, pencils. No bottle. "Shit."

"Maybe you left it in your locker? Or around the house?"

"Maybe."

* * *

"So?" he asked as Seth sat down next to him.

"Nothing. She's never even seen the bottle before. I asked her if she took it and she gave me this weird look. I think she thinks its drug paraphernalia or something, cause she asked why a guy would carry around a bottle in his book bag."

He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to strangle his brother. Sometimes the boy's tendency to overshare made him want to scream. "Alright," he breathed, opening his eyes. "We've tried Sandy and Kirsten and Marissa and Summer. Who else would go through my bag?"

"I dunno, man," Seth shrugged. "Maybe it fell out or something?"

"Then it could be anywhere."

"But does it matter?" his brother continued warily, like he wouldn't like the answer. "You don't have any more wishes…"

It _did_ matter, though. It just… did.

* * *

"What's up," Seth asked as they approached Summer in the parking lot at school. It'd been a week since he'd lost the genie bottle and nothing. No leads, nothing obviously changed enough to be genie work. He kept trying to shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. Of course something wasn't right – he'd had a fucking _genie_. What the hell was 'right' about that?

"Chip got a new Ferrari," Summer frowned, folding her arms across her stomach.

"You know, before I came here, I'd never even _seen_ a Ferrari in person and now they're everywhere," he commented drily, taking in the brand new, bright red car that Chip was showing off.

"Well, let's hope he doesn't ruin this one like he did the last one," she shrugged, turning and heading toward the school. He shot one last look over his shoulder – it was a beautiful piece of work – before following. "I'm surprised his parents _let_ him get another."

"Well, what their baby wants, their baby gets," Seth mocked, scowling.

"Actually, Chip's parents banned him from driving," Summer corrected. "He _wrecked_ his last car, and they told him he wasn't allowed to have another."

"Yeah," he argued, frowning, "but these are Newport parents we're talking about. I've only ever seen the Cohens be even mildly responsible."

"Hey!" Summer protested, glaring at him. "My dad is _not_ a 'Newport parent'. And neither are Chip's, actually. He may be a stoner and all, but they actually try to be strict. He must've done something big to get the new car."

As they walked, Seth turned to him and raised his eyebrows.

* * *

"Chip Saunders has my fucking genie bottle," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he paced the pool house. He had too much energy and it felt like every muscle in his body was tight.

"That guy used to pee in my shoes."

"Exactly," he paused in his pacing and turned to face his brother. "We have to get it back. That guy's a complete jackass, we can't let him have her."

"You can't have her either," Seth reminded him. "Remember what she said?" He shook his head no, because he didn't. He hadn't been listening when Seth and the genie had their 'rules' conversation. "Once you use a genie, you can't have the same one again."

"But _you_ can," he shrugged. The thought made him uncomfortable, but he shook it off. Seth was better than Chip Saunders. Chip probably made her walk around naked or something. He was probably going to get bolder with his wishes, too. Something more extreme than a car. "We have to get it back."

"If you're sure," Seth agreed, still wary. He ignored that and started to plan.

* * *

"Oh my God, did you hear?" Summer gushed, sitting down at the table with them. "Chip _totally_ crashed his new car!"

Seth's eyebrows shot up along with his and they both looked at each other. "His consequence," Seth mused, shrugging.

"His what?" Summer cut in, sandwich raised halfway to her mouth.

"Um… his consequence. You know, for being a spoiled rich kid," he covered, and Seth nodded enthusiastically. Summer seemed to buy it and continued eating.

* * *

"Alright, so I distract him, right?" Seth rubbed his hands together nervously, shifting from foot to foot. "And you go through his bag?"

"Yeah. Just remember to be really annoying, ok?" He clapped Seth on the back and nodded in Chip's direction.

"I'm on it," his brother nodded, still looking a little pale and nervous. Probably because Chip used to beat him up. "Alright, here I go…" Seth didn't move and he rolled his eyes, giving his brother a little shove in the proper direction.

Seth moved and sat down across the study hall table from Chip and started rambling about something - much to the jock's dismay. He, on the other hand, took a seat at another table, directly behind Chip's chair. He bent down to dig through his own bag, and stealthily slipped his hand into Chip's. He felt around, but there was nothing bottle-like there.

* * *

"Maybe it's in his locker," Seth suggested. "Can you break in or something?" He shot his brother a look and the guy shrugged. "Right, you're still on probation. I guess breaking into school property wouldn't be good for the ol' juvie record."

"Yeah. We'll just have to wait till he takes it out of his locker. He has to, right?"

"I guess," Seth shrugged and they continued walking.

* * *

"Hey mom," Seth bent and kissed his mother's head as he dumped his bag on the kitchen table. She frowned and tried to look hurt.

"I see how it is. Now that I'm all invalid, you love me." He watched as she struggled not to smile at her son as he gasped in mock horror, pretending to be outraged.

"He's probably just realizing how lucky he is to have a good mom." She turned to him and her expression softened and she smiled. He ducked is head – he hadn't meant his statement like _that_, but he guessed it was true. His own mom sucked.

"But what are we gonna do for dinner?" Sandy called, coming into the kitchen with a grin and breaking the tension. "Without Kirsten to cook, how _ever_ will we survive?"

"I guess we'll have to get take-out," Seth shook his head, like the prospect was disgusting. "I mean, if we _have _to."

"Oh, you guys are _hilarious_," Kirsten pouted and rolled herself away from the kitchen table. "Just you wait. As soon as I'm out of this wheelchair, I'll start cooking. See how many jokes you make then."

He helped Kirsten out of the kitchen as Seth and Sandy bemoaned their fates behind them. "Very nice," he congratulated, grinning.

"Thanks. Stroke of brilliance, if I do say so myself," she agreed and he could tell she was smiling, too.

He and Kirsten had never really bonded, but after the accident, she seemed more… affectionate. Like she just realized what she could be losing. He felt his stomach clench every time he thought about that – how _he_ was something she could lose.

He'd never been something to miss before.

He just wished he deserved it. He was only here because of a fucking _wish_ and then he'd let the genie down by not wishing her free and then losing her to stupid Chip Saunders.

He didn't deserve anything.

* * *

Summer was bored. Algebra was like, her _least_ favorite class ever. Not because she was bad at math, it was just boring. Plus, it was AP, so she was stuck with all the smart loser kids. Ryan was in her class though – apparently the guy was a mathematical prodigy – so at least she had _someone_ cool to talk to.

He was late though, which was fine, because he'd been extra broody lately. Usually she could get him to break into a smile when she ranted about Cohen and his totally inability to behave like a normal human being. But ever since the crash, he'd had this _look_, like he wasn't really paying attention to her. Not like she blamed him, though. Kirsten had been looking really bad.

It was a miracle she was in such good condition.

Sure, she had two broken legs and a broken arm, but there were no head injuries and the doctors expected a full recovery. Not bad for someone who was hit full on by a pick-up truck.

She'd seen a different side of Seth Cohen that night.

She'd been worried – God, horribly worried – that Cohen was just another spoiled, rich, Newport kid. Sure, he was a loser and he'd been picked on a lot and he _seemed _nice. But they _all_ seemed nice at first.

That night at the hospital, though, he'd looked awful. His hair'd been a mess, his skin sickly pale, lips bright red and clashing with the whiteness of his skin. His eyes had been worried, dark circles underneath.

He'd been worried sick.

About his mother.

And she decided in that moment that Seth Cohen was a good guy. In that moment, she hadn't given a shit what he looked like or that he read comic books and watched anime and listened to whiny music. She'd seen just about the worst of him and decided – in that moment – that she loved him.

It scared her shitless.

She'd never been in love before. Hell, she'd barely even _liked_ the guys she'd dated before. And she and Cohen weren't even _dating_ yet. She didn't want to tell him yet, either. It was too soon – his mom just got out of the hospital and she didn't want him to think she was just saying it because of that. She wasn't. She was pretty sure she'd loved him _before_ the accident, but she'd been too much of a bitch to see it.

So she tried showing him in little ways – she held his hand, she took his arm as they walked, she smiled at him when they talked. No kissing yet – for the same reasons she wasn't telling him about the L word. She wanted him to know it wasn't about sympathy.

But Ryan didn't seem to like her new, positive attitude. Every time she was nice to Cohen and took his hand, he'd give her this appraising look. She probably deserved it, though. He probably didn't trust her or something.

"Hey."

She looked up as he sat down next to her at the table.

"Atwood," she replied. "I thought you weren't coming."

"Had something to do," he shrugged, but didn't elaborate. She didn't expect him to, either. Especially because he was frowning, so whatever he'd had to 'do' probably hadn't gone well. She'd ask Cohen later. Right now, class was starting.

"Alright, you can get in groups and work on problems nine through thirty-seven, odd," their teacher called before he sat down behind his desk. One reason she liked AP classes? The teachers let them do a lot of stuff by themselves.

"Atwood, wanna pair up?"

He nodded and turned to face her better in his chair and they both started the problems, only talking when they compared answers. Ok, so he wasn't the _best_ work partner, but sometimes silence was nice.

The door to the classroom opened and someone vaguely familiar walked in. She wasn't a student – or at least she'd never seen her around – but she _had_ seen her somewhere before. Where…?

"Hey Atwood," she whispered and nodded her head toward the new arrival. "Isn't that the girl you took to that party?"

He opened his mouth to say something as he looked, but it never came out. Instead he made some weird choking noise before snapping his mouth shut and going pale. Apparently they hadn't parted on the best of terms or something.

"Class," Mr. Fulton introduced, sounding annoyed at having to actually be a teacher. "This is Taylor Townsend. She's new and she'll be joining our class this year. I hope you'll make her welcome. Now go back to work." He'd rushed the introduction speech and then sat back down behind his desk, leaving the new girl to find her own seat.

Ryan looked absolutely horrified to see her and a thought crossed her mind. So she put up her hand and waved the girl – Taylor – over with a smile, ignoring the panicked look the boy shot her. This was payback, for all the glares he'd been giving her lately.

"Hi, I'm Summer," she stuck out her hand and the other girl smiled widely and shook it. "I didn't know Veronica Townsend had a daughter."

"I've been in boarding school since kindergarten," she explained and set her bag on the table. "I transferred for high school."

She nodded – that made sense – and turned to grin evilly at her partner. "And I think you know Ryan, right?"

"I do," the girl agreed, still smiling brightly. "He was so nice and took me to a party when I just got back. I didn't know anyone else, and Kirsten Cohen suggested he take me so I could meet some people."

She turned to see Ryan's expression, but he looked confused. She wasn't sure what the hell that was about.

"So what are we doing?" Taylor asked, opening her book to the page she and Ryan were on.

"Nine through thirty-seven, odd," she repeated and pointed to her notebook with her pencil. "We're on number seventeen. If you wanna copy and then we'll just work from there…"

"Oh," the girl blushed and shrugged, looking down at her paper. "I already have them done."

"What?"

"Well," the girl explained, still red, "I wanted to be prepared, so I kind of went overboard and did all the problems in the first three chapters…" She wasn't sure whether she was supposed to laugh or back away slowly at the girl's obvious insanity, so she settled for a smile. "But you can totally copy off mine if you want…"

Alright, she liked this girl.

_

* * *

_

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	8. Chapter 8

_Alright, there's a lot of exposition in this, but hopefully it answers everyone's questions. Ooh, you know what I should've done? Written an Exposition Song, like Giles… Musicals are always more enjoyable, in my opinion. _

_Anyway, read, enjoy, try not to kill me._

_Music: when you get to the point, make sure that I'm still awake, ok?_

* * *

He managed to ditch Summer – despite her best efforts to track him through the halls. She may be tough, but she sucked at packing her bag up quickly after class.

Especially when he knocked her books over and practically ran from the room.

Seriously, she'd known damn well exactly what she was doing when she invited the genie over. Fuck, he couldn't even call her that anymore. She was Taylor Townsend now.

He wondered how she got free. Maybe it was some deal, like a car warranty? Maybe if you were a genie for a certain number of years or through a certain number of masters – whichever came first – you'd get freed automatically? That could work.

It couldn't have been Chip, though.

No way. There was no possibly way in hell that Chip Saunders would wish a genie free. No. He'd already proven he was a selfish bastard with the bright red Ferrari. There was just no possible way that _Chip Saunders_ was a better human being than he was.

He kinda needed to find out what the fuck happened.

* * *

"Um, Taylor," he fumbled, almost calling her _genie_. She turned to face him, books held tightly to her chest, and smiled.

"Hi, Ryan! See? I can call you Ryan now, isn't that so cool?"

"Yeah," he agreed hurriedly. "Can I talk to you?"

She shrugged and nodded and he pulled her over to a less populous area of the quad, by the wall.

"If this is about the whole you-not-freeing-me thing, don't bother. It's ok."

"It's not about that," he said, then shook his head. "I mean, kinda, cause I am sorry, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." She waited for him to get to the point, so he took a deep breath. "How'd you get free?"

He'd been thinking – maybe Chip _hadn't_ stolen the genie bottle. Maybe Chip just managed to convince his parents to get him a new car and then crashed it cause he was an idiot. Maybe – and he tried to ignore the fact that he desperately wanted it to be true – she was freed after he made his last wish, as some sort of reward, or something.

"Oh, Chip freed me!"

Or maybe he was full of shit.

"Chip," he repeated stupidly. "Chip Saunders?"

She giggled and nodded. "And on his second wish, too!"

"So the first wish was for the car?" Ok, this was so far from alright. This was… just… fuck.

"Yeah," she nodded, frowning for a second. "He made that wish right out of the bottle, when he first found me."

"And the crash was his consequence?"

"Of course. Looks like you're finally getting a hang of the rules."

He glared at the genie – fuck, _girl_. Not only was she making fun of him, but she seemed completely unaware of his moral dilemma. And he still couldn't figure out how _Chip Saunders_ had the ability to free her, but he didn't. It didn't make sense.

Not that having a genie ever made sense, but still.

"Why'd he free you?"

She paused, pursing her lips and thinking over his question before shrugging. "He was really upset after the crash. His parents grounded him and he got lonely, so he took me out and we started talking, and I told him all the rules again and he asked about the freeing thing and… it just happened. One minute I'm in Chip's room, the next I'm waking up in 'my bed' and my mom's yelling at me to get up."

"It's just… Chip's an ass," he tried to argue, because it still didn't make sense. "Why would he free you? And why would he free you before he used his second wish?"

"Chip's not that bad," she shrugged again, getting a half-smile on her face that made him just a little bit sick. "He's really sweet, actually. We talked a lot and he told me how he always has to try and fit in with his friends. I feel bad for him."

"_You _feel bad for _him?_" he gritted out, running a hand over his face. "Remember Seth? You know, the guy you had _so_ much in common with? Chip used to pee in his shoes."

"Oh, that doesn't sound fun," she frowned. "But you have the wrong idea of Chip. He's really nice. By the way," she reached out her hand and rested it on his arm. "How's Kirsten?"

Nausea threatened to take over, but he pushed it down and shrugged instead. "Awake and doing better than the doctors expected. I guess I have you to thank for that."

"It was your wish," she reminded him, tilting her head. "What was your consequence?"

"I don't know."

He hadn't even _thought_ of what his consequence was. He'd hoped that he and Seth had put enough stipulations into the wish to bypass it, but the universe probably had a way of fucking with that. He hadn't seen any type of consequence yet.

Maybe the universe would take pity on him?

* * *

"Dude," Seth hissed, hitting him on the shoulder as they sat at their lunch table.

"I know," he lamented, eyes fixed on the table and not where the ge- where Taylor was sitting with Chip Saunders and his friends.

"He wished her free? Chip _wished her free?_ Is it opposite day? Is up down? Is right left? Is…"

"Seth, shut up." His brother nodded and closed his mouth. "It doesn't matter who freed her. She's free, that's all that matters." Seth didn't say anything, which just made him feel like a bigger jackass than he already did.

* * *

He leaned against the wall and tilted his head back. Through half-lidded eyes he watched the party, following the movements of its guests as they walked and talked and drank. For a few seconds he let his eyes focus on Caleb, standing over Kirsten's wheelchair, hand possessively on her shoulder. It was her party – thrown by Cal – and he stood vigilant by her side.

Sandy stood on the other side of her, glaring at his father-in-law. He knew Kirsten didn't _want_ this party, but she couldn't say no to her father, so she came. She came, she smiled, she sat there and listened while every social climbing Newport elite came and told her how _glad_ they were she was alright.

He got bored with that and let his eyes drift to Seth, standing with Summer and gesturing wildly. The girl was smiling and he looked away because he didn't feel like dealing with her right now. He still wasn't sure what to make of her.

Eventually his gaze shifted to the person he'd been avoiding all night – Chip Saunders.

Who had a name like Chip anyway? That was the stupidest name he'd ever heard. Were his parents stoned when they named him or something? How had the guy gotten through school without getting the shit beat out of him for having such a freak name?

The jackass was standing by the open bar with Luke and Norlund, joking and… well, generally acting like a jackass. Holly was there, too, flirting openly with the barman and probably trying to get the guy to give her alcohol, even with her parents in the same room. Norlund had some other skank on his arm, who was either oblivious or willing to ignore the fact that her date was staring at Holly's ass. What wouldn't girls do to be part of the popular crowd?

Chip, on the other hand, had his eyes on _his_ date. She was wearing red again, gold jewelry glinting in the bright overhead lights. He wondered if it was the same jewelry she'd had as a genie, but he couldn't tell from this distance.

Shit, he was like a fucking stalker or something. But he couldn't help it, couldn't pull his eyes away from them.

Chip's arm was around her waist and every couple minutes or so, he'd bend down slightly to whisper something in her ear. The worst part, though, was when she would giggle at whatever he'd said. Then he'd straighten up with this shit-eating grin and his hand would slide down just a little further.

* * *

"Atwood."

"Roberts."

Somehow she'd found him, hiding in the corner and generally trying to avoid people. But Summer – despite her tan – was a smart girl, and she'd tracked him down. Now she stood in front of him, hands on her hips, frown on her face as she glared at him.

"I think it's time we talked."

"About?"

This could go one of two ways: either she would talk about the fact that he kept staring at Chip and 'the new girl' or she'd talk about Seth. He really wasn't looking forward to either one – Chip for obvious reasons and Seth because he didn't feel like hearing excuses right now. He didn't feel like hearing that Seth was a _nice guy_, but _just not right_ for her. He didn't feel like listening to her dump his brother – and not just that, but do it _through him_. He could see it now – Summer asking him if he could just tell Seth that they'd be better off as friends.

"Seth."

Yup.

"So talk."

"Well, it's not really about Seth," she backtracked and he focused his gaze on her. "It's more about you."

Now she had his attention, so he nodded. "Alright."

"I'm not stupid," she started, the look on her face demanding no interruptions. Fine, he was happy to let her say her piece. "I'm not oblivious, either. I see the looks, you know. Every time I talk to Seth I get this, like, _death glare_ from you and it's getting really old."

"Seth," he said back, keeping his voice dangerously low. "Is my friend – my best friend. Probably the nicest person I've ever met and pretty much the coolest. So I get a little defensive when people fuck with him."

"I'm not," she pouted, face wrinkling in annoyance. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I like Seth. And I'm not talking _gee, that's a nice purse_ like him. I'm talking _I'll sit through seven hours of Battlestar Galactica for him_ like him."

"Seven hours of Battlestar Glactica, hm?" he mused, resisting the urge to smile. "That takes some patience."

"And we didn't just _watch_ it; we watched it while he recited the lines verbatim. And then he had a one-sided discussion on whether Marvel or DC was the better company."

"I'm sorry," he managed, before losing the battle with his smile. He grinned, full force and got a smile in return from her.

"Now that we're on the same page, how about we stop with the disapproving looks?"

He regarded her for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright. But just so we're clear: if you ever hurt him…"

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, waving her hands dismissively. "You'll do something Chino, like beat the crap out of me, I got it."

"Actually, I was gonna say I'll sic Kirsten on you." She smiled and ducked her head before looking at him again.

"Just so you know," she said softly, looking over her shoulder where the topic of their conversation was shoving cheese into his mouth, "I don't plan on hurting him."

"Good."

"Now," she grinned evilly, turning her focus on the bar. "How about we have a little chat on how you _supposedly_ like Marissa, but you've been watching the new girl all night?"

He refocused his gaze on the girl in front of him – not the girl on Chip Saunders' arm – and saw that she wasn't angry or upset that he was – apparently – blowing off her friend. In fact, she looked like she was about to burst with sadistic joy at his little predicament.

Wait, how did she know about his predicament to begin with?

Shit, Summer was too smart for her own good. He glared at her.

"Fuck off, Roberts."

* * *

Chip grinned as the girl next to him giggled at his latest observation – this one on how Norlund was really fucking obvious about his interest in Holly's rack.

He actually didn't give a shit about Norlund and Holly. That was their business, not his. At least, not any more. He was done fucking Holly, she'd gotten _way_ too annoying over the summer. Last year she'd been a little better, not as slutty. But then Ward had taken a liking to her and she'd jumped on the chance to have him. So she'd taken to wearing bikini tops everywhere and giving it up to anyone who wanted it. He'd fucked her before and after the change and he had to admit, he'd noticed a decline in her performance. She was too needy now.

Plus, she'd fucked Ward and now she was probably fucking Norlund, and who knew what diseases those guys carried? He wasn't quite sure why he was friends with them aside from the fact that they provided protection. He remembered when he'd transferred here, in third grade. Emmet Ellroy had cornered him in the boys bathroom and announced he had a queer name and proceeded to punch him in the face.

Emmet had been part of the popular crowd, led by – of course – Ward and Norlund. He remembered how those two had sat back and watched their friend beat the shit out of him in the bathroom. It was weird – he'd come from a small town in Wisconsin and he'd never even heard of anyone being beaten up before. After the three had left, he'd sat in the bathroom and wiped the blood off his face. He hadn't told his parents – no way he was being _that_ kid. He'd gone back to school the next day and the process had repeated itself.

Halfway through third grade, he'd taken a liking to Summer Roberts. She was beautiful and she reminded him of the girls back home. Emmet liked her, too – of course – which only added fuel to the now weekly bathroom beatings. And he remembered – clear as day – when it changed. They'd been in art class and Summer had come up to him and said 'you shouldn't let Emmet do that to your face'.

That Thursday when he went to the bathroom, he punched Emmet. He didn't just punch Emmet, he _wrecked_ Emmet. Broken nose, fractured rib, black eye, split lip, sprained wrist. Ward and Norlund just stood off to the side in their normal spot and didn't even bother helping their third. Emmet left first and he never told anyone.

The next day, Emmet was out and he was in. The rest was pretty much history.

He spent the next seven years as part of the Triad. With Ward at the helm they ruled the school, along with Holly, Summer and Marissa. They were the popular kids, no one fucked with them. He dated Summer briefly in eighth, but they decided that _no_, and kept it to friends. Marissa paired off with Luke around fifth. Norlund jumped from girl to girl, never really settling, and he began his off the radar relationship with Holly in ninth.

High school started off looking boring. They were doing the same things they always did – beating up the new kid and Seth Cohen, chasing girls, drinking, doing the occasional line. It was monotonous and boring, but he figured it could be worse.

He could be Seth Cohen.

Except Seth Cohen was now with Summer Roberts, which he'd never imagined – and truthfully, he kept expecting the world to implode or something because of it.

And then he'd found the bottle.

He'd been walking to the bus after school and saw it in the parking lot. So he picked it up and took it home, thinking he'd give it to his mom to help her cool off from his recent car trouble – or crash, whatever. But then he'd tried cleaning it and out popped _her_.

A fucking Jinn, right out of One Thousand and One Nights, complete with outfit and perky attitude. He hadn't even bothered to hear out the rules, he wished for the car. Fuck his parents, he wanted to drive and he wanted it to be in style.

The Ferrari came into his life and the next day at school, he was a god. And after a couple days, he started thinking about his next wish. One Monday, he'd figured it out – he'd wish for his parents to back the fuck off and let him live his life.

But then the crash happened. It had looked worse than it actually was – no one had died and he hadn't even broken anything. He was shaken, though, even if he tried to hide it. His mom had grounded him and he spent the entire first hour in his room realizing he'd been lucky.

Because if he hadn't crashed the car that day, then he would've gone home and wished for his parents to back off. He couldn't imagine how that would've turned out. Because – as the Jinn later told him – every wish had a consequence. The crash had saved his parents.

Then he took out the genie and spent the second hour talking to her, learning the rules and regulations and her history. She was fascinating and kind of sad, trapped like that and having a bunch of random guys wish for idiotic things like red Ferraris that they only crashed a week later.

Of course he'd thought about sex – she was hot, what could he say? – and had stealthily brought it up. A Barbie comment and another hour later, and he was wishing her free. He'd like to say it was because he kind of wanted to fuck her, but there was another nagging part of him that kept noticing how – despite her age and the fact that she'd been all over the world – she was completely innocent. It reminded him of Summer when she was younger; of the girls back home in Wisconsin.

The ensuing explosion had knocked him unconscious and he woke up a day later in the hospital, with his parents fawning over him. And they'd told him something about an electrical problem, but he didn't really bother listening. He'd been too busy wondering if the whole genie thing had been a product of a coma or something.

Then Monday, the new girl had come up to him and thanked him and he knew it wasn't. Now he was here, with his arm around her waist and – with her head on his shoulder and his hand on her ass – he was thinking about sex again.

"This is boring," he muttered to her and she pulled away slightly. "Wanna get out of here?"

She nodded and he led her away from the bar, away from his _friends_. He was anxious to get away from Ward and Norlund and the way they kept eyeing his girl down.

Plus, that little shit from Chino had been watching them the entire night, and it was starting to freak him out.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

_I seem to have a problem, dear readers. Actually, I seem to have multiple problems, but that's beside the point. My current dilemma is my seeming inability to stop with the background stories of minor characters. You'll see what I mean later._

_But for now, enjoy the angry, brooding Ryan._

_Music: why'd you have to get so hysterical, why'd you have to get so fucking useless_

* * *

He decided he'd talk to the genie. Fuck, _Taylor_, whatever. He'd talk to Taylor and this time, he'd do more than just stutter out apologies. He needed her to know his reasons, why he chose Kirsten instead of her. So he waited by the front doors, off to the side a little, so he wouldn't be in the way.

Seeing her with Chip on Friday at the party had grated on his nerves more than he would've liked. That combined with his chat with Summer got him thinking – he kind of liked her. When she'd been his genie, she'd pissed him off to no end, but he'd actually enjoyed talking to her. And it was nice having someone who wasn't walking on eggshells around him. The Cohens – Seth included – were always careful about what they said to him, just in case it brought up bad memories. Marissa treated him like a combination of charity case and savior. Summer was better, surprisingly. She talked to him like she talked to everyone – with scathing sarcasm.

But _Taylor_ had always said exactly what she was thinking. She didn't fuck around with him – although that might have been a direct result of her inability to lie to him. It didn't matter though. She had good judgment and she didn't freak out over things and when he'd told her he was helping Kirsten instead of her, she'd smiled at him.

He saw her finally, getting out of her car – which must have come as part of her new life package. He was just debating whether to go over there now or wait till she walked by him, when Chip got out of the passenger side. It shouldn't bother him – she was probably just being nice and giving him a ride because he didn't have a car – but it did. Especially when Chip walked around and put his arm around her waist.

Because it wasn't like it had been at the party. The way his hand was tight on her waist, the way she leaned into him… it was different. At the party it had been two teenagers hanging out, but now it was more. Just… different.

And the way she smiled up at him, like he was a fucking god or something, made him want to punch the bastard.

Or vomit, he couldn't decide which.

* * *

"So there's a big rager tonight at Holly's," Summer sighed, sitting down at their lunch table. "Apparently everyone who's anyone is gonna be there."

"A party?" he raised his eyes to Summer. "Let's go."

His brother shot him a confused look, but he ignored it.

* * *

He was right. It was a typical Newport high school party, complete with drinking and drugs. He ditched Seth and Summer the minute they got in the door, grabbed a beer and headed outside to the unlit deck.

He still couldn't figure out why he was being punished. Well, he understood the consequence part, but his seemed so unfair. Were his wishes that much more selfish than Chip's had been? He'd wished for his brother to be ok and Chip had wished for a car. Those were on two fucking different levels of selfish. Chip got into an accident – with no injuries whatsoever – and Kirsten got into an accident – sending her into a coma.

How did those compare?

When the genie had asked him, the other day, what his consequence for helping Kirsten was, he hadn't known. He did now.

Seeing the genie – Taylor, fuck – every day, happy and free. That was his consequence. She was free and happy because someone else let her out. Chip let her out while he'd used his last wish to help Kirsten. So this was his punishment – having to see her every day, with fucking Chip Saunders of all people.

And even with the selfish wishes, didn't he deserve a fucking break once in a while? Just once, couldn't _he_ get the girl? He'd never had Marissa, even after she dumped Luke. He thought with Luke out of the way, they could date, but it just never happened. It was one thing after the other keeping them apart, and finally his lack of interest sealed the deal.

Then the fucking genie. She'd been _his_. The first girl to honestly be his – even if it was because she _couldn't_ leave him. But he'd fucked that up, too. If he'd freed her, she'd be hanging around school with him instead of Chip. She'd be going home with him instead of Chip.

He downed another mouthful of beer and thought hard about his wishes. If he'd known Trey was going to be ok, he never would've made the wish. But he hadn't known, and if the circumstances were the same, he'd do it again.

And if the circumstances were the same, he'd wish to be out of Chino and he'd wish for Kirsten to be ok. He didn't want to take any of the wishes back. He'd meant them, so now he was stuck with the consequences, even if they weren't fair.

Maybe because Chip wished for something shallowly selfish, he'd gotten a shallow consequence? Maybe because his wishes were for the well-beings of others, his consequences hit on a deeper level? That was such bullshit. He shouldn't be punished for wanting the people he loved to be ok.

* * *

"Ryan, man, where've you been?" Seth panted as he caught up.

"Around." He didn't bother breaking his progress toward the kitchen and his third bottle of beer.

"Do you think you should be drinking?"

He ignored that and slipped between two girls and into the kitchen. Seth managed to get by them, too, so he grabbed his third and fourth bottle and continued out into the living room again without stopping. The music was loud and pounding which was a good cover for the fact that he didn't even bother to acknowledge Seth trying to follow.

He didn't feel like dealing with morals right now. What the hell was the point in morals if the universe was just gonna screw you over in the end? What good was trying to help people if all it did was fuck you over?

* * *

His head was buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol and the cool night air. Music and voices trailed out from the house, but it was relatively quiet out on the deck. He didn't bother turning on the light – that would just alert people to the fact that he was out here and he wanted to be alone.

Of course, the universe fucking hated him, so he wasn't really surprised when the back door opened and a couple walked out, the girl giggling. And of course, the universe fucking hated him, so he wasn't really surprised when it turned out to be fucking Chip Saunders and Taylor.

He hadn't even come to terms with the probability that they'd had sex already and he didn't feel like catching the condensed version out here. So he made sure to clank his beer bottle loudly, keeping his eyes fixed on the beach ahead, not the couple.

"Chino," Chip's voice was disappointed – probably at having company – and a little wary. "I thought you avoided these things."

He turned to face the jackass and shrugged, feigning indifference. "I needed a drink." Chip nodded like he understood, then flicked his eyes between Taylor and the house – trying to get him to go inside so they could be alone.

Like hell he was, so he pretended not to catch the silent plea.

"Ryan, how's Kirsten doing?" Taylor stepped away from her _date_ and sat down on the chair next to him. "Out of her wheelchair yet?" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she bit her lip and ducked her head. "Summer's been telling me some stuff…"

"She's doing better," he started, but Chip interrupted.

"Babe, you want a drink?" He sounded impatient and jerked his head in the direction of the house.

"I am thirsty, actually," she frowned slightly. Chip nodded and motioned for her to come with him. Like fucking hell.

"You know, I'm finished with my beer. Saunders, could you grab me one while you're in there?" Chip shot him a glare, but he didn't dare start anything with Taylor there, looking between them.

"Fine."

He resisted the urge to grin triumphantly as Chip went back inside. Then he turned back to Taylor and listened to the alcohol in his bloodstream.

"Why are you with him?"

"He invited me," she explained, tilting her head to the side like she didn't understand his question.

"I mean in general. Chip's an ass."

"I keep telling you," she sighed. "He's not that bad. Plus, he's teaching me how to be normal." He snorted and threw his empty bottle over the deck railing. "Having a boyfriend is normal," she frowned at him, folding her arms across her chest stubbornly.

"Is that what Chip told you?" he shot back, turning to face her better. The look on her face told her the bastard had, and he rolled his eyes. "Did he also tell you that it was normal for girls to give it up on the first date?"

"Sex," she argued, looking uncomfortable, "is a natural act between two consenting people. Of course it's normal. You humans just make it more complicated than it has to be."

"First of all, you're human now, so you can stop referring to us like we're a different species. And second, if it's so normal, would you have sex with me?"

The question made his heart jump in all sorts of disconcerting ways, but he pushed that down to focus on her reaction. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, frowned, opened it again, finally blowing the bangs angrily out of her face.

"You're trying to confuse me," she accused, glaring at him.

"Yeah, pretty much. But you didn't answer the question."

"It's normal," she started slowly, thinking it out, "for a boy and a girl to have sex, but they can't go having it with other people if they're having it with each other. Right?"

Her absolute confusion made the game boring, so he backed off. "Look, forget sex for a minute. Do you like Chip?"

"He's nice," she shrugged. The back door opened and Chip came out with two beers and a water in his hands.

He stood up and took his beer from Chip. "Go talk to Summer," he told the girl, still sitting on the chair looking confused. "Ask her about sitting through seven hours of Battlestar Galactica. Then answer my question."

With that he left, making his way through the crowded house to track down his brother.

* * *

Seth and Summer sat down across from him on the couches, looking serious. He put down his book and pulled his headphones out of his ears and waited for the inevitable conversation.

"Aright, Atwood," it was Summer – predictably – who started. "This is an intervention."

"I need an intervention?"

"Yes," Seth picked up where his – now official – girlfriend left off. "You've been extra broody and angry lately, and at Holly's party, you were drinking. Now, I know I tend to dominate Seth/Ryan time, so this is now Seth/Ryan/Summer time. She's going to keep me from talking about myself." He actually looked at the girl in confirmation, and she nodded approvingly.

He was so whipped.

"So what do you want me to talk about?"

"Actually, I'm going to talk," Summer put her purse aside and shifted to sit more comfortably. "I just had a very long conversation with Taylor about Battlestar Galactica. Apparently, you told her to ask me about it?"

He nodded, then hesitated before speaking. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her what – I assume – you wanted me to. It was weird, like talking to a little kid. She has like, no idea how boys operate." There was pity on her face, which he decided was better than suspicion. The girl probably just chalked it up to Taylor being at an all-girls school for her entire life. "So I told her that I was dating Cohen because I wanted to, not because it's normal. She had this huge obsession with being normal."

"She just wants to fit in," Seth cut in quickly, getting Summer off that track.

"I know what that's like," she agreed, eyes focusing on something in the distance. There was a pause before she snapped back into reality. "My point is, if you like this girl, tell her. Holly's having another party on Friday. Seth and I will distract Chip and _you_ are going to get that mouth working." He grinned and Seth snorted in laughter. Summer's face twisted in disgust. "Ew, not like _that_."

"I get it," he nodded. "I'll talk to her."

* * *

"Chip!" Seth cried loudly, clapping the jock on the shoulder. "What's happenin' mi amigo?"

"Taylor, that's an awesome shirt!" Summer took the girl's arm and pulled her away from her date. "Let's go over here."

He watched from a little distance away as Chip watched his date leave, then turned to glare at Seth, who was still rambling. He thought he saw his brother say something about Joss Whedon, keeping his hand on Chip's shoulder to keep the boy from following Summer and Taylor.

Taylor didn't protest too much and followed Summer over to where he was.

"Atwood!" Summer pretended to be surprised to see him, widening her eyes to add to the effect. "What a surprise."

"Hi Ryan," Taylor greeted, looking slightly nervous, which he took as a positive.

"You know what? I think I left my purse in my car. Here, you two talk." Summer practically swung Taylor at him, then bolted off to help Seth keep a hold on Chip. So far Operation: Genie Snatch was going according to plan.

Of course, Summer had no idea that's what they were calling it, but Seth was quite taken with the name he chose. The boy had drawn up detailed maps and plans and even came up with costumes that they should wear.

He'd vetoed it immediately on the basis that the plan was illegal, and the outfits were stupid.

But they kept the name and Operation: Genie Snatch formed with the help of Summer, under the pseudonym _The Plan_. Less creative, but more effective at hiding the genie secret.

"Let's go outside," he decided, taking her arm and pulling her through the crowd, out to the back deck. It was dark, just like it had been last week.

She waited for him to say something, but all the lines Summer made him memorize flew out of his head. It was about then that he remembered who the hell he was. He was Ryan Atwood and he absolutely sucked at talking.

He was definitely better at actions, so he stepped in close and slid his hand into her hair and pulled her mouth up to his. She stiffened in surprise but she didn't pull away. Instead, she relaxed against him, eyes closing. He looped an arm around her waist to keep her pressed against him as he tried to control his heart rate.

And some part of his brain idly wondered if all genies tasted like cherry.

* * *

Her party was going exactly to plan. Everyone knew that Holly Fischer's parties were _the_ place to be seen, so they flocked here every Friday night to get their weekly dose of drugs, alcohol, and sex. And she was the center of it all in her white bikini top and denim skirt.

The only downside to this party was that Summer was here, and her ex-friend actually looked happy with that loser Seth Cohen. Was Seth Cohen actually cool now? If he was, she'd probably have to fuck him at some point.

She always made sure she fucked the popular guys, especially if they were dating her friends. Leverage was always a nice thing to have. And Seth wouldn't be that hard to bag – he was new to all this. A few suggestive comments, some accidental touching and the guy would be putty in her hands. Sure, he seemed completely attached to Summer, but Luke had worshipped Marissa and look how that turned out.

More interesting was Seth Cohen's housemate. He was from Chino, but he looked like he'd be a great fuck. Not that she'd admit that out loud, because everyone hated him – well, everyone _relevant_ – so they couldn't ever know she harbored a little crush on the boy. And it wasn't so much a crush, actually, as it was lust, but still.

She wondered if she should bother with him, though. He'd been hooked on Marissa and now he seemed overly interested in the new girl, who was – by the way – really weird and highly annoying. She was dating – or doing, she couldn't tell – Chip, so she sat with them at lunch, and she'd just break out into the most random conversations. One day, she even started talking about _comic books_.

Ew.

She wasn't sure Atwood would go for her, because she'd already tried to get him. The boy had the will power of a saint. There was one party, back before the beginning of school when Summer still had some common sense, where she'd trapped him alone in the guest bedroom. He'd been hiding from Marissa or something and she'd cornered him and offered herself up.

He fucking turned her down.

Obviously he didn't know what he was missing. She was great at giving head; everyone said so.

Whatever, she'd deal with him some other time, when her reputation had time to reach his ears. Right now, she had Norlund to get her off tonight. He'd ditched Kelley Winters, so he was free. Thank God, because Chip was currently monogamous to the freaky girl and Luke was too busy feeling guilty and sorry for himself and trying to win Marissa back.

"Hey babe," Norlund whispered in her ear as he grabbed her ass.

"Hey," she purred, giving him a smile as she lifted her cup to her lips and drank. She was about to suggest they head upstairs when glass shattering caught her attention. "What the fuck?" she hissed when she saw two boys stumble through the back door, the glass crunching under their shoes.

"It's Chino and Saunders," Norlund observed, frowning. He was probably trying to decide whether he should go in and help his friend or not.

She huffed in annoyance – her parents were gonna be pissed at the shattered back door – and put her hands on her hips as she watched. She liked a good fight as much as the next girl, but her parents were totally gonna take away her car for at least a week.

There was nothing she could do about it now, so she watched the fight, pushing her way to the front of the crowd because she was more important than everyone else.

Saunders landed a punch to Ryan's stomach, but the new kid barely seemed to notice. He tackled the taller boy, and they both crashed through the coffee table, scattering magazines and coke everywhere. The crowd cheered, except for the druggies, whose wares were now all over the carpet.

The fucking table was gonna cost her another week without her car. As hot as the thug from Chino looked sweating and bleeding and punching the living shit out of Chip, this had to stop. She turned to Norlund and glared. "Do something."

Norlund caught her meaning and waded into the fight, landing a punch on Ryan's face before pulling his friend out. Summer rushed forward with her new boyfriend and they each took hold of one of Ryan's arms.

When the boy had calmed down enough, Summer whispered something to her loser boyfriend and went outside. She came in a few seconds later and rushed the new girl through the party and out the front door, before anyone could really catch what was happening.

She caught it though, and couldn't fucking believe it. Chip and Ryan were fighting over the new girl? No. There was just no way in hell. That girl wasn't even pretty. She was a boarding school freak.

She turned away from the broken glass and splinters of wood and stalked up to her room.

No one had ever fought over her. It wasn't fair.

Her hands shook as she took out a t-shirt and pulled it over her head, trying to avoid seeing herself in the mirror. It wasn't fair. She'd fucked her way to the top, sacrificing her pride and sometimes even her sense of good taste just to be popular, but no one had ever fought over her. No one had ever _cared enough_ to fight over her.

It wasn't fair.

All she'd ever heard her entire life was how beautiful Marissa Cooper was, how talented Summer Roberts was. It wasn't fair. Why was it that the only time people noticed her was when she was naked? Or drunk? Or naked and drunk? She felt her eyes start to prickle with tears, but shook it off.

"Hey babe," Norlund came into her room. "Party's over, wanna fuck?"

She pasted a smile on her face and nodded as he walked over to her reading chair. Of course, she didn't tell anyone it was her reading chair, so she called it her comfy chair to their faces. He sat down and put his hands behind his head, getting comfortable.

She managed to keep the smile on her face as she dropped to her knees in front of him and unbuttoned his pants.

It was better to be noticed some of the time than never, right?

_

* * *

_

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	10. Chapter 10

_Alright, this is shorter than the last chapters have been, and it's also the second to last one. Next chapter will be the last (because really, how much longer can I drag this out?) Also, no random background on random characters... aww..._

_Enjoy._

_Music: ice age heat wave, can't complain, if the world's at large, why should I remain?_

* * *

"I can't believe you would do something so… _stupid_," she hissed, pacing back and forth in front of his bed as he held a washcloth to his temple to staunch the blood.

"He started it," he shrugged. It was true – the fight was totally not his fault. Well, maybe a _little_ bit his fault. To be fair, his hand _had_ been up her shirt and his tongue down her throat when Chip found them. But Chip had thrown the first punch and he'd continued the fight because of the way Chip had manhandled Taylor away from him.

"That's not the point," she sighed, finally stopping to turn and face him. "The point is it was stupid and pointless and you could've gotten really hurt."

"Pointless?" he questioned. "That fight was point… _full_. That fight was full of point. Or something like that. How can you be ok with him doing that to you?" He was referring – of course – to the way Chip had grabbed her arm and pushed her away from him, right before the punch.

"Ryan, do you know how many men have hit me? A lot. That," she waved her hands in the vague direction of the pool house door, "was nothing. It barely hurt."

"What do you mean a lot of men have hit you?" The slight amusement at her anger over the fight was fading into rage as she rolled her eyes.

"Some of the masters I had weren't too happy with their consequences and they took it out on me," she explained, like it was nothing. Like it was _normal._

"How are you ok with that?"

She sighed and sat on the bed next to him and frowned. "There's nothing I can do about it now, Ryan. Plus, I'm free now."

"Which is why you shouldn't have to deal with it anymore. Shit."

"Well, Chip didn't hit me, he hit you," she argued, pouting. In the back of his mind he knew he was being too dramatic – Chip hadn't been _that_ rough – but he didn't quite care. Jealousy brought out an ugly color in him and he was way too far along to give a shit. She sighed, bringing her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "We shouldn't have kissed," she sighed. "It was wrong."

"Didn't feel wrong," he mumbled angrily, tensing up. "And you weren't exactly complaining." In fact, it had been quite the opposite. He remembered those hot little noises she'd made when he felt her up. And despite her inexperience, she'd kissed him back with everything she had. She flushed bright red and avoided his eyes. "Come on," he persisted, reaching out to brush the bangs out of her face. "You like me, I know you do. Why are you staying with him?"

"He freed me," she shrugged. "What if he gets angry if I leave? He might…"

"Tell people you used to be a genie?" he guessed and she nodded, biting her lip. "Why aren't you afraid I'll tell?"

She brought her head up to meet his gaze finally and looked surprised – like the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "Will you?"

"No. But if Chip does, who would believe him? Everyone'll just think he's high or making stuff up. No one believes in magic and genie shit. Even if it's true," he amended when she looked offended. "So are you staying with him because you like him, or because you're afraid he'll tell?"

She thought that over for a while, staying silent and he focused on making sure the cut on his temple had stopped bleeding. Finally she sighed and leaned over and pressed her lips softly to his. Then she stood and walked to the door, pausing and turning back around. "Whatever I have with Chip, I'll figure it out. But I think you need to figure out whether you want me because you actually _like_ me, or because you feel guilty for not freeing me, or because Chip has me."

Then she turned and left the pool house and he flopped back onto the bed.

He hated morals.

* * *

Chip stalked around school that Monday with a black eye and a split lip and a sprained wrist and a bruised ego.

He tried not to gloat – really, he did – but he couldn't quite keep the smirk off his face every time Chip would glare at him. Not only did he beat the shit out of the jock that used to pick on his brother, but he also took the guy's girl away.

Everyone knew – he wasn't quite sure how, but they did. He couldn't imagine Seth telling, and even Summer had the good sense to keep it under wraps, and there was _no way_ Chip would admit his girlfriend cheated on him. He guessed it didn't matter, though. The secret was out and the whole school was buzzing about it: one of the school's elite had lost a girl to the new kid from Chino.

Again.

He just hoped that this time, it would work out. It hadn't with Marissa, but he was so over that. It was weird how much he didn't care that Marissa was… somewhere. He actually hadn't seen her for a while.

After Taylor had left Friday night, he'd laid on his bed and thought about what she'd said. Did he really like her, or was it just misplaced guilt and jealousy? Yes, he felt guilty and wanted to make it up to her. Yes, seeing her with Chip made him want to put his fist through a wall. But did he really like her?

And he decided, after a few hours of thinking – or, in Seth's opinion, brooding – that he did. She was beautiful and funny and smart as hell and she turned him on. She kept him on his toes; she was never boring, she always had him guessing. The confusion was both annoying and thrilling at the same time, because it wasn't full of dread, like he'd had with Marissa. Everything with Marissa had confused him, and he'd always wondered when the next disaster would strike. But with Taylor, he was just left guessing what the hell she'd say or do next; what new bit of crazy would pop out of her mouth.

So even though Chip's friends were sending him death glares and probably planning his demise and all the girls in the school were giggling or ogling his cuts and bruises, _he_ was intent on finding her in the crowd.

* * *

"You dumped Chip," he observed, keeping his voice monotone as he leaned up against the brick wall. Students milled through the quad, but they were in a secluded enough area to talk alone. Next to him, she rolled her eyes because she saw right through his feigned indifference.

"I did. And I take it you decided?"

"Yup. I like _you_."

She didn't look quite as happy as he'd expected. Instead, she bit her lip hesitantly, before sighing. "I like you, too, Ryan."

"But…" he prompted, feeling his stomach sink a little. Of course the universe wouldn't let him have her. That was his consequence, after all.

She turned to him and grabbed his hand, looking apologetic. That couldn't be good. "Ryan, I _just_ became human. And the first thing I did was latch onto someone. I can't…" her voice broke a little and she looked down at the ground. "I can't keep doing that; relying on other people. I've never been by myself and I think… I think I _need_ to be. I don't know who I am; I never had the chance to figure it out. I like you Ryan, a lot. You're just… I don't blame you for anything, I don't. But I think I need to figure out who I am before I latch on to someone else."

He leaned back against the brick wall of the school and took a deep breath. "Alright."

"Alright?" She sounded surprised at his agreement, and he nodded to reiterate his statement.

"I get it."

"I'm sorry," she offered, voice soft, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It's ok. Go find out who you are." He looked over at her as she blinked, causing little rivulets to run down her cheeks. She sniffled and tried to smile.

"Do you think you'll be around when I do?"

He turned to her and smiled.

* * *

She sat in front of her mirror and decided she liked her outfit, no matter what her mother said.

She ate her breakfast and decided orange juice and toast was better than milk and cereal.

She drove to school and decided she liked having the windows down instead of the air conditioning, even if it messed up her hair.

She gripped her bag and swung it over her shoulder as she walked into school, feeling completely alone for the first time in her – very elongated – life. She walked through the halls and ignored the whispers as she went. None of their opinions about her mattered, because she hadn't made her own yet.

She sat in her first class and paid close attention to the lesson, taking diligent notes and keeping her eyes on the teacher.

When lunchtime came, she got her food and sat by herself at a table outside and did the homework assigned in her morning classes.

After school, she drove home and went to her room and turned on the TV. She watched for hours, flipping through the channels, taking in as much as she could. She decided she liked the Sci-fi channel, the cooking channel, and the Discovery channel.

She pulled out the comics Seth leant her and read them through again.

Then she went to sleep, getting four hours of rest before her alarm went off for school.

And the process repeated itself the next day and the day after that.

She spent her days in school and her nights by herself, learning and absorbing, needing to _know_ who she was, what she liked, what she didn't.

Because she may have a physical body, her blood may pump through her veins, her brain may send signals to her muscles, but she was worth nothing if she didn't have a soul. It was the difference she'd seen between herself as a genie, and the people around her.

People like Summer, who put up a tough exterior, who defended her friends at all costs, who was sneaky and smart and didn't let anyone talk down to her.

People like Seth, who was genuinely nice, completely raw, without any defenses and wholly pure, funny and smart and loyal to a fault.

People like Ryan, who couldn't be fit into a box, strong and silent, brilliant and subdued, who took his punishments without complaint and fought for what he believed in.

It was in their faults that they became human and she strived every day to be like them. To be herself, to be free, complete, flawed.

To be _human_.

She didn't know how long it would take to feel complete. She didn't know how long it would take to find herself.

But, looking around at all the other students as they went about their day, she wondered if _anyone_ felt complete. Because she saw their insecurities and their defenses and their walls. She saw their insincerity and their fear and their confusion.

She wondered if anyone – truly – knew who they were.

She sure as hell didn't.

But she was going to try to find out.

_

* * *

_

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	11. Chapter 11

_Alright, there's a bit of a time-jump in this, but this chapter's more of an epilogue than a chapter._

_I hope you all enjoyed my brief escape from reality._

_Music: so here we are… I figured it out, I can see again_

* * *

Chrismukkah was officially the weirdest holiday he'd ever witnessed. The combinations of red and green, blue and gold hurt his eyes and he still wasn't exactly sure what the whole point of it was. Seth had told him – multiple times – about the _magic_ of Chrismukkah, but to him it just looked like a bunch of Christmas decorations painted blue and a menorah with red and green candles.

He didn't really _do_ the whole 'holiday' thing. Back in Chino, mom had pretty much given up pretending to care.

Mostly it was just him and Trey trading pathetic gifts, sitting in front of the TV and watching as many Christmas specials as they could before mom woke up in the late afternoon and commandeered it for herself. Every Christmas Eve, mom would go out to a party and he and Trey would make grilled cheese on the stove and drink the eggnog mom bought. They usually passed out soon after that from the alcohol in their adolescent blood streams, and woke up Christmas mornings to exchange gifts.

He remembered one Christmas, when he was nine and mom had one of her few cool boyfriends. Rich had bought him and Trey new bikes and they spent the next week riding them non-stop. He'd wanted his mom to marry Rich, but Rich eventually left, just like all the others.

Christmas was usually just a time when mom would back off and go to a lot of parties. He didn't believe in Santa – Trey had dispelled that myth when he was three – and he definitely didn't believe in miracles.

Seth did.

Apparently Jesus and Moses teamed up on Chrismukkah and went around granting miracles to the deserving half-Jews, half-Christians. And even his experience with a genie didn't make him believe in miracles, because even the wishes had their consequences. Miracles were, by definition, consequence free, and he'd figured out a long time ago that there was no such thing.

He didn't tell Seth any of this, though. That would just trigger the pity and probably a crusade to get him to change his mind, which would only lead to trouble. Seth on a crusade was _never_ a good thing.

He didn't need a miracle, though, he decided. He had the Cohens and they were happy and that's all he needed. Kirsten had recovered completely – out of her wheelchair and moving at the speed of light, as usual. Sandy was ecstatic to have his wife back to normal and made no attempt to hide it. Seth was on a whole other plane of happy, with Summer on his arm – and in his bed, apparently.

He was, on average, pretty damned happy himself. He had a good home, people that actually gave a shit about him, a school that he could actually learn at. He had friends; he had everything he needed and most of what he wanted.

* * *

"Dude, I so have _the_ coolest Chrismukkah present for you," Seth gloated, flopping down on the wicker chair in his room. "You're gonna flip. Well, maybe not _flip_, cause you don't really strike me as a flipping type of guy, but you may actually crack a smile, and in Ryan language, that's like jumping for joy."

"Alright."

Seth tapped his fingers on the chair's armrests impatiently, then sighed in annoyance. "Aren't you even gonna ask me what it is?"

"Aren't gifts supposed to be a surprise?" he shrugged, not even putting down his book.

"Yeah, but you could still show some interest," his brother whined.

"What's the point? I'll ask what it is and you'll say you can't tell."

"Man, I keep forgetting how much of a downer you are sometimes. Way to totally ruin the Chrismukkah spirit."

"Sorry."

* * *

"Alright," he stood in front of the kitchen table and frowned. "Why are there six place-settings? I thought Cal and Julie were off in Maui for the holidays?"

"Summer's coming," Kirsten called from where she was busy writing down their order for Thai takeout. Despite her warnings, she didn't follow through with her threat to start cooking.

"That makes five," he kept frowning. She was keeping something from him, and he hated secrets.

"Could you go tell Seth that dinner will be in forty-five minutes?"

He glared at his new mother, but she didn't meet his eyes, so he shook his head and went to find Seth.

* * *

The doorbell rang and he looked up from the TV. "That's Summer," Seth jumped off the couch and ran out of the den, through the kitchen and to the front door. He just kept sitting on the couch and watching _A Christmas Story_. No matter how many times he saw it, it never got old.

"Atwood," Summer came into the room with a smile, but Seth stopped in the doorway.

"Now, Ryan, even though it's Chrismukkah Eve, I'm going to give you your present now."

"Alright," he shifted to face the door and his brother.

"Ta-da!" Seth tried to sing, stepping aside to reveal what was obviously both his gift and their sixth dinner guest.

"Hey, Taylor," he said – quite normally, thank you very much.

"Hi, Ryan," she smiled, stumbling a little as Seth nudged her toward the couch.

"Wow, Cohen, look at that," Summer looked at her cell phone. "It's almost time to eat, why don't we go help your mom?"

"Great idea, Summer," the boy gushed back and the two left.

"Wow," he muttered. "They're real subtle."

"They mean well," she sighed, sitting on the couch next to him.

"Still, they could at least _try_ to come up with a better excuse." She giggled at that, but didn't respond. Instead she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He sighed. "Not to ruin the moment or anything, but should we be doing this? Aren't you supposed to be finding yourself?"

He'd let her have her _time_. It'd been almost three months now. He'd see her in the halls at school and they would wave to each other and smile. He knew she talked to Summer and made a few new friends. She'd joined Social Committee and the debate team and the drama club the lit mag, where she would talk to Seth. And she would talk to him in Algebra, the only class they had together. They never talked about what could have been, or what may be. They kept it short and simple, two people who happened to be in the same class.

He was letting her have her space, even if he wasn't entirely thrilled about it.

"Do you know who you are, Ryan?" she murmured, never opening her eyes or moving from his shoulder.

"I think so," he turned his head slightly to whisper it into the top of her head.

"Completely?" she asked, turning to bury her face into his shoulder.

"I don't think anyone does," he shrugged. "I think it's impossible to know exactly what you'd do in every given situation."

"Dinner," Kirsten called softly from the door and he turned to see her with a small smile on her face. Taylor immediately straightened up and stood, smoothing out her plaid skirt.

"Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Cohen," she called, leaving the room.

"Call me Kirsten," the older woman shot back before turning to face him with a bigger smile.

"Wait, you knew she was coming?" he stood up from the couch and frowned.

Kirsten bit her lip and he thought he heard a quick _maybe_ as she left the room.

Go figure.

* * *

He'd never quite had a holiday dinner like this.

Christmas music blared in the background - the good stuff, not the weird mix Seth had given him two weeks earlier - and they ate off Hanukkah themed plates - which, apparently, Seth had painted in third grade. The plates were white with a blue, shakily-drawn Star of Davids in the center, and what looked like triangles, but were actually dreidels, along the edges.

Sandy and Kirsten ragaled them with stories and Seth told them all again about the melding of Jesus and Moses and Summer told them how she and her father went out every year searching for trees. He shared some stories - the good ones, like the one with Rich and how Trey got him a new soccer ball one year. Taylor told them she and her mother did nothing special for the holidays, to which Summer had almost gone into a rage blackout.

Christmas was obviously a big deal for her.

After dinner, he helped clear off the table as Seth and the girls chatted and Sandy sang _White Christmas _into a spoon in time with the radio. Seth caught his eye from across the kitchen as Summer started talking loudly to Kirsten and Taylor slipped out the back door. He felt his heart freeze in his chest and put down the stack of plates, taking advantage of Summer's distraction.

* * *

"What do you want for Christmas, Ryan?"

She sat on his bed in the darkened pool house, moonlight reflected off the pool water and thrown into the room – waved patterns of light making everything seem surreal.

If he looked back on it, this whole thing was surreal – the genie, getting out of Chino, Trey getting into jail, Sandy and Kirsten in a car accident, Kirsten in a coma. He'd been in a state of near-constant confusion for the past six months; suspended animation, just waiting for the next big thing to hit.

"What do you want for Christmas, Ryan?" she whispered into the dark, light dancing across her face, her edges blurred by the darkness.

He stood in front of her in the silence of the pool house, in suspended animation, just waiting for the next big thing to hit. What did he want?

He wanted to feel at home here. He wanted a family, he wanted friends. He wanted security; to know he'd never have to go back to his mother. He wanted Trey to be out of jail and happy; to have a fresh start, even if he didn't deserve it. He wanted his mom to be ok wherever she was; to be sober and happy and stable. He wanted to be able to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow knowing everything would be ok. He wanted to be able to talk and smile without feeling guilty; to be able to let everyone know he was happy. He wanted the people he loved to be happy and healthy. He wanted Sandy and Kirsten to be his parents; he wanted Seth to be his brother; he wanted Summer to be his friend. And he wanted her; to just be his. He raised his eyes to her as he answered.

"Everything."

She smiled. "You deserve it."

He took a hesitant step forward and reached out to brush his fingers along her jaw.

"Do I?"

She stood up and stepped into him before pressing her mouth to his.

"Merry Christmas, Ryan," she murmured against his lips.

"It's Chris_mukkah_," he corrected, grinning sluggishly as her knees hit the edge of the bed and he followed her down.

"Merry Chrismukkah," she amended and they both watched the clock on his bedside table tick to midnight. "I hope you get what you asked for."

"I don't believe in Santa," he mumbled. "He's not real… is he?"

"No," she sighed. "But the Easter bunny is."

"Really?"

"No."

He hovered above her as she laid below him, hair spread around her like a halo, eyes wide, lips parted slightly.

"What about miracles?" he asked, head dipping lower until he could feel her breath against his lips.

"Miracles are only real if you believe in them," she whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he closed the distance between them.

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